Eternal Oblivion
by hoshi-ni-onegai
Summary: When Dean was gripped tight and raised from perdition by Castiel to prevent the apocalypse, he didn't expect a veteran slayer straight from Hell to be recruited to fight alongside him. SPN: S4 BtVS: post-S7
1. Prologue

Author Notes: Hide your kids, hide your wife, hide your husband, I'm writing a TV show crossover fanfiction. I have a lot of this written, and I keep writing for it when I need a break from my RK fiction. I feel like this story keeps me fresh without getting tired of the same characters from a fandom. I should say this now, that I am abandoning my Twilight based story because that story comes from a place of hate. I shouldn't have foolishly pursued attempting to fix a story I don't even enjoy. So instead, I figured I'll write for something I do like. Nay, love. I have been a BtVS fan for as long as Buffy told Angel "always." Also, I am a relative new comer to SPN, but I love anything supernatural (pun intended) so it was only a matter of time before I fell in love with the Winchesters and their pet angel, Cas.

While I have no real opinion of who the SPN cast gets together with, I am an all the way BuffyxAngel shipper. So when I realized that Dean would actually be the perfect partner for Buffy and vice versa, I had to write something. In other words, this story is completely here for my entertainment. I expect that this story just won't get the traffic my other stories do, because crossovers have a more specified audience but I'll update despite the lack of readers or reviewers. So I hope if there are any readers out there, you can let me know if you even like this premise.

Spoiler alert for all of BtVS and SPN S1-4. I apologize in advance for pulling out entire episodes from SPN, but there is a method to my madness.

**Disclaimer: The **_**Supernatural**_** and **_**Buffy the Vampire Slayer**_** world and all characters depicted are a creation of Eric Kripke and Joss Whedon, respectively.**

**Prologue**

By Hoshi-ni-Onegai

_Buffy POV - May 20, 2003_

By the look on Spike's face as he walked up to me, I knew he saw. There was no way I could hide it from him. "Where's the trinket, Buffy?

In a last ditch effort, I tried playing dumb. "The who-ket?"

"The pretty necklace your sweetie-bear gave you. The one with all the power." Seriously, what was up with vampires and the stalking? "I believe it's mine now."

I raised my brow at how sure he was. Also, he seemed completely unabashed by being caught spying. "How do you figure?"

"Someone with a soul, but more than human? Angel meant to wear it, that means I'm the qualified party." He said matter-of-factly and held out his hand.

I shook my head. "It's volatile. We don't know-"

"You'll be needing someone strong to bear it, then. You planning on giving it to Andrew?" He gestured for me to give the amulet over.

I looked down at the object in question. The light refracted through the gaudy center gem as I turned it. It was one of those pieces you see in antique shops that crazy rich women wear. "Angel said the amulet was meant to be worn by a champion. And you're a champion Spike, but I'm wearing this."

"Been called a lot of things in my time." He frowned when I pocketed the amulet. "You shouldn't risk it. You don't even know what it does."

"Exactly." I sighed. "It's my job to save the world. It's pretty much the first bullet on my resume under the job title: slayer."

"Can't hog all the glory, luv." He said. "What am I supposed to do during this thing if I don't get the pretty necklace?"

"Don't worry, we're busting into Hell. There'll be enough baddies there to keep you busy." I attempted smiling at him, trying to get him to drop the topic and let me do my duty. "I'm going to be at the frontline and the First is probably going to come after me."

"All the more reason to not distract you with unnecessary jewelry." Spike, however, was not letting up on the idea.

"So I need you to look after Dawn. Giles, Williow, and Xander can keep her out of trouble, but I know she will never be safer than under your watch." My gaze turned upward to where my friends, family and the potentials slept away. It really was the calm before the storm. "Keep them safe, will you?"

When I turned back to him, I saw the pained expression cross his face. "You're talking like you're not coming out of this."

"That's not the plan. I'm going to fight my hardest to get out of this with everyone. I plan not losing anyone down there. And if this shiny doohickey is going to do the job, then I'll wear it and out accessorize the First. Or however it works..." I shrugged grinning. "It looks better on me anyways."

The rest of the night was restless, and morning came far too quickly for my taste. I've run up against Big Bads for years now, but this felt different. This felt like an end. To what, I wasn't sure.

The moments that should have stretched out and lingered were speeding by as if there was someone who couldn't take their finger off the fast forward button on this episode of my life.

Before I knew it, we were at the high school. I was twenty-two years old and my life still revolved around this place. The building was new, the lockers barely banged up, and the hallways weren't the ones I walked and ran through before graduating. But it was strangely the same.

Some of my toughest battles happened here. Heck, I once died here. My early slayer years flashed through my mind and how it started with the original crew. The first four members of the Scoobies: Giles, Williow, Xander, and me.

We stood in the hallway and exchanged what I fear to be our final session of witty banter. It's weird how full circle life is.

Everyone manned their stations and I led the amateur pack of potentials down to the basement with Faith by my side. As we each cut our hands and bled onto the seal, I prayed that everyone make it out alive.

I'm not a religious person, despite the fact that crosses and holy water did wonders in my arsenal, but in the darkest moments of my life I downright didn't believe in God. How could an all powerful being sit by and watch all the horrible things happening to earth? It also didn't help that the higher ups kept calling the highest ups 'the powers that be.' God was singular, powers was plural. But now was not the time to worry about semantics. Instead, now was the time to call in a long deserved favor. For all I did and all I gave up for the good side, I need help today. If there's a moment for a need for divine intervention, this was it.

I always figured I would end up seeing Hell one day, but I never thought I would be walking down into it with a convenient set of stairs.

Scythe in hand, I approached the edge of the pit. The floor appeared to be moving, but I knew in my gut that it was hoards and hoards of ubervamps. Even with our plan with super witch Willow, I wonder if this might have been one of the worst ideas I've ever had. But that's when I felt it: the surge of power that swept into each girl around me. However, what I didn't expect was the additional dose of power pumping through my veins.

I glanced back at Faith, but my sister slayer was only focused on the oncoming battle and the potentials being called into their destiny. I only had a second more to think about my new strength before I had to chalk it up to adrenaline. There wasn't time to think, just act. I readied my weapon as the ubervamps clawed their way out of the pit and attacked.

The battle raged on. Slayers fell all around me, but even more of the demons did as well. I didn't enjoy the kills, yet this was what I was built for. This felt all too natural. There really was no question as to what my purpose in life is. And I hated myself for it.

I swung my arm and decapitated another ubervamp. Things were going as well as can be expected, which should have been my first clue that everything was going to fall apart. Suddenly, I felt a piercing burn from my abdomen as something stabbed me from behind.

I collapsed to the ground. Was this how it all ended? A sword from behind? It seemed like the least warrior-like death I ever imagined. I called for Faith, and passed her the scythe. The fight needed to keep going.

"Oh no... Ow! Mommy, this mortal wound is all... itchy." I looked up to see the First wearing my form again. This thing has to be the most irritating evil I've fought. I was starting to find the sound of my own voice coming from it annoying. She crouched down to my level smirking after admiring her identical wound. "You pulled a nice trick. You came pretty close to smacking me down. What more do you want?"

I gritted my teeth and seethed out, "I want you... to get out of my face."

By sheer force of will, I pulled myself back up to stand and face the war again. The slayer who now held the scythe saw that I was back on my feet and deftly passed it to me in time to knock three of the demons back into the pit with wide swing. My movements were precise as I picked the demons off one by one. This wasn't my second wind -it was my last one.

Then, I felt something heating up at the center of my chest. Swiping the scythe to clear the path in front of me, I suspiciously glanced down at the trinket that had been asleep on the job up to now. An inexplicable blue light concentrated into the gem of the amulet and then shot upward. The blast from whatever power shooting the light knocked a hole into the ceiling and all the way up the various floors of the school building. Looking up, I could see the open sky. I couldn't help basking for a short second, this might be the last chance for me to ever see it.

The light transformed orange, as if it was soaking up the rays from the sun. I don't know how, but I instinctively knew what was going to happen before the amulet refracted the light out into the Hellmouth as if the sun sunk deep into earth.

I whipped my eyes toward Faith. "Get everyone out of here!"

The intensity from the sun shot forward in concentrated rays and dusted the ubervamps in rapid succession. I was rooted to the ground, unable to move as the amulet did its work. The potentials all ran up the stairs as the walls and ground shook violently.

As the last of the slayers raced out of the Hellmouth, Faith tugged on my arm. "Buffy, come on!"

I shook my head and stared out into the pit as the stream of ubervamps seemed neverending. "I can't. I have to see this through." I shoved the scythe into Faith's hands. "It's up to you now." Seeing Faith's hesitation, I shot her my best no-nonsense order. "Go, now!"

Giving me a pained look, Faith nodded like the obedient soldier she never really was and flew up the stairs with the weight of the world now pressing down on her shoulders. I felt guilty for dumping it on her, but it was her turn now to fight the good fight.

The ceiling started crumbling and the walls showed signs of cracking. From the corner of my eye I saw a shock of all too familiar peroxide blond hair. I turned my attention toward him and shouted, "Spike, go!"

He shook his head and took my hand. "Gotta move, lamb. I think it's fair to say school's out of the bloody summer."

"You have to leave now if you want to make it to the bus without dusting in the sun." I miraculously kept my voice even, as if I was brave enough. "I have to do this."

"Buffy!" He tried tugging my hand but it burst into flames. Instinctively he wanted to pull his hand away, but kept hold. When I finally turned to him, he locked his eyes with mine. "I love you."

A soft smile crept up on my lips. "I know." Setting aside my Han Solo moment, I let go of his hand and stared out into the rest of Hell. "Take care of them, Spike."

With a final glance back, Spike ran up the stairs leaving me. Just as his coattails disappeared to the surface, the walls caved in. I stepped forward with purpose and brought out Mr. Pointy that I tucked in the back waistband of my jeans. Coming right up to edge, the amulet did its work for a few moments longer until the earth walls couldn't keep up with the pressure. I could feel the dirt floor crumbling beneath me. I kept my stance tight and ready as I fell into the snarling mass of the left over Turok-Han.


	2. Baptism by Fire

Author Notes: This chapter is twice as long as I would usually make them, so don't expect anything this extensive in the future. Also, I tend to be a slow updater so don't expect anything so soon either. I usually post the prologue and the first real chapter up within a day or so, because the prologue always seems a bit sad. I apologize in advance if this feels very repetitive of SPN episode 'Lazarus Rising.' Inserting a character to an already existing timeline is new to me, so there is some ground work I need to lay that is in line with the rest of the series. I'm writing this with the expectation that the reader has already watched S4 of SPN, so if I skip entire scenes and summarize them in a sentence or so -you now know why. Anyways, I would like to thank the handful of people who have favorite/followed this story. I'm just happy to see that there are readers out there. Tell me what you think!

**Disclaimer: The **_**Supernatural**_** and **_**Buffy the Vampire Slayer**_** world and all characters depicted are a creation of Eric Kripke and Joss Whedon, respectively.**

**Baptism by Fire**

By Hoshi-ni-Onegai

_Dean POV - September 18, 2008_

I didn't understand what was happening. The incessant screams that never paused or weakened stopped. The hot humid sticky rotting air around me was breathable. After years of having my senses violated and assaulted, the black stillness was unsettling. Digging through my pockets, I found the metal lighter I used to always carry. Flicking it on, I found myself in a wooden box. It was cramped: just wide and long enough to lie in it, but not comfortably. I was in my fucking coffin.

"Help! Help! Help!" The words spilled out before I realized. My voice was hoarse, which I was used to; after all, I was a constant contributor to the screams. But my voice was also panicked, desperate.

With the small space the wooden wall allowed, I pounded into the top of the box. The craftsmanship of the box left much to be desired, as a after a couple of attempts dirt rained onto my face. Whoever slapped together this thing was getting a prize. The wood was flimsy and nails were barely used. I felt surprising strong as I punched the top even more and it cracked. Dirt crowded in and filled the box. With my last chance, I took a deep gulp of air. Reaching upward, I kicked with my feat as I climbed, dug, and swam my way upward.

I have a terrible perception of time. I didn't before, but now I couldn't tell the difference between a minute and an hour. So I wasn't sure if I was climbing upward for two mintues, two hours, or two days. It felt like the last one.

My lungs were burning and I was ready to give up and let the earth swallow me. But my hand broke free to air. Driven by the possibility of oxygen, I burst my other hand through the surface. Clawing at the ground, I found a grip and crawled out of the ground. A simultaneous groan and gasp escaped me. Fully emerged from the ground, I rolled over and furrowed my brows from the blinding light as I panted. My eyes were still shut, but I was surprised I could still recognize the sun beating on my face without looking at it even after decades without feeling its warmth.

I wiped the film of dirt from my face and blinked my eyes open. The sun's rays were harsh, but it was a huge improvement over what I was used to seeing. Down there, everything was black, grey, or blood red.

Getting to my feet, I dusted off my clothes. The first thing I noticed about this place was the wooden cross marking my grave. No doubt Sammy demanded it. But there were more important things to worry about, like the perfect circle of collapsed trees. There was a panorama of a dead forest around my gravesite, like it was the center of an explosion.

Twisting around to see the result in three hundred-sixty degrees, my eyes almost skipped over the crumpled figure not thirty feet away. Before I gave it a second throught, my legs carried me over to the body. My steps were faster than I expected, shouldn't I be dead tired? Pun intended.

At least my priorities were still in order, my first instinct was to make sure whoever this was, was alive and not ignore it. The last ten years down in the pit made me question my inner Jiminy Cricket. Coming up to the body, I realized it was a young blonde chick. She was petite in every sense of the word. I could probably break her wrist by squeezing too hard by accident. As far as I could tell from this angle, she was in her twenties... and kinda hot. I internally smirked at my train of thought, at least I haven't changed much. I shook it off -this was not the moment for my libido.

There wasn't a mark on her and her clothes were pristine. Her hair was shiny and it looked soft like she came straight out of the salon, I was mildly tempted to see how soft. I crouched down and lightly touched her shoulder. "You okay there Blondie?"

Her eyes snapped open suddenly and she jumped up swinging her arms out like an animal. Maybe I've been out of the game too long or something, because this spry little thing got a fist into my jaw. I careened backward from the blow, which was harder than I expected. She leapt away from me. I expected her to scream and panic from seeing a stranger waking her up, not punch me and act like a rapid caged animal.

I was seeing stars from the heavy blow. I tried to shake my head to clear it, which was counterproductive. As I tried to steady myself, I raised my hands in front of me trying to show I wasn't here to hurt her. From somewhere, I have no idea where, the blonde pulled out a wooden stake and held it on the ready. Either she watched too many Dracula movies, or I had a nutcase on my hands.

She snarled and turned her head every which way, probably trying to figure out where she was. When I finally pulled my attention away from her gnarly looking stake, I caught her gaze. I don't why noticed her glaring eyes were green, but I noticed and froze. My eyes widened at the familiarity of hers. I knew this crazy lady.

I tried to make my voice soothing, but I was probably failing. "I know you. I saw you in the pit." Did she even understand me? The way she acted seemed more feral and less human. "You know me."

She took a step away from me, but loosened her stance. Maybe I was finally making progress. She kept her stake in her hand and kept her guard up while she took in her surroundings. I watched her as she seemed to sort out her confusion, and it didn't seem like it was working out for her. Then again, I wasn't getting that far either. I had no idea what was going on either. One minute I was in Hell, the next I'm alive... I think.

Since she didn't seem to have killing me as the first thing on her list, I looked around. In the distance I spotted a gas station. I tried to catch her attention, when she finally looked at me, I pointed to the small building. "Let's go get help."

She looked at me like I was the crazy one. When I stepped in the direction of the gas station, she didn't follow. I look back at her and she remained rooted to the ground, there was complete distrust written across her face. I didn't blame her. If two criminals recognized each other from prison, there would be a high level of suspicion. She didn't trust me, especially after what she saw me doing in Hell. I, on the other hand, saw her fighting and killing demons. If I knew nothing else about her, that would be enough to have her on my team. Or at least that's how simple it was in the past.

I also had around ten years of experience evaluating souls. Even though I can't see it now, in the pit I saw her soul and it was good. The only thing I wasn't sure of was if her soul was particularly pure, or if I was so used to seeing evil ones. Either way, she was one of the good ones.

"I'm not going to hurt you." I lifted my shirt to show that I was unarmed and made the motion to keep walking. "You can keep your scary looking stick if you want. Come on."

I tried keeping my steps steady so she could keep up, I didn't bothering checking on her make sure she was following. Her steps were light, but I could detect it. I mentally patted myself on the back, I haven't completely lost my hunter's edge.

The hazy hot atmosphere made it difficult to breathe. Each step I took kicked up a new batch of dust into the air. I was pretty sure my lungs were filled with grime by the time I reached the gas station.

"Hello?" I tried, even though I saw the closed sign in the window.

After waiting for an answer and not getting one, I shucked off my shirt and rolled it up around my hand. Punching through the window of the unmanned gas station, I reached in and opened the door. When I glanced back at her, she gave a disapproving look I was used to seeing from Sammy.

I shrugged. "This is an emergency."

Aside from raising her stake a bit, she gave no response back. So far she hadn't said anything. Maybe she was a mute, or deaf. I considered her for a moment before I shook my head and went into the small store. I glanced through the sparse contents and made a bee line for the small glass door fridge containing my salvation: water. I grabbed the first bottle in the rows and cracked it open. I was probably gulping too rapidly, but I didn't come up gasping for air until half the bottle was downed. Holy crap water was delicious.

Hearing the crunching of glass, I looked over to see that the girl had barely breached the door, but observing me suspiciously. From the way she acting, I would think she'd never seen someone drink water before. I snatch a second bottle from the fridge and tossed it to her without much thought. She caught it deftly with one hand and proceeded to stare at it apprehensively. I'm surprised she didn't drop it.

She stared at the bottle like it was an alien artifact. I mimed drink for her. "If you're as thirsty as I am, you're going to need a lot more than that." She looked at me like I sprung a second head. "But pace yourself."

Leaving her to figure out the mechanisms of a plastic bottle, I spotted a newspaper rack and rushed over to it. The blonde strengthened her stance and stepped out of my way. I didn't have time for her jumpy reactions. I seized a newspaper.

What? This can't be right. "September." I looked over to the blonde who only frowned. How long was she down there? For me, it felt longer. A lot longer. A whole fuck longer than four months. The prospect was too unreal.

She kept her distance, and it was obvious she had no idea what I was saying or what was going on. Despite her clean appearance, there wasn't something wild about her. If she wasn't wearing jeans and a pristine jacket, I would think she was raised by animals. Her stance wasn't entirely upright, but hunched over with a wide stance. She seemed to be protecting herself the way a wolf or lion would.

Why was she like this? The Hell I remembered was filled with screams, but demons were articulate and highly annoying. They loved the sound of their own voice and they never shut up. So why didn't she understand speech and didn't know her way around a bottle of water?

She might be acting like she had twenty too many screws loose in her head, but she was still cleaner than I was. Even my ears felt dirty. I scanned the store and saw the sign marking bathroom. I headed that way and made a mental list of stuff to grab later. Reaching the one-stall bathroom I saw how dusty I was in the old mirror. It looked like I came out of a dust storm... or dug myself out of a grave, I guess.

I expected to be dirty but I also expected to see some marks from my time down stairs. There should be scars, bruising, maybe a scuff mark, but instead I looked good. Damn good. Well, grubby, but good.

I washed my face clean at the sink -or as clean as I could get it without access to soap. Drying off, I noticed that the various small scars that I used to have on my face were also gone. There should be dozens of them from over the years, some from jumping out windows, some form rock salt to the face, and the rest from monsters that wouldn't go down easy.

The residual echoes of the hellhounds and the way they tore through my abdomen made me internally cringe. I didn't feel pain or wounds pulling but I carefully lifted my shirt. Instead of the claw and teeth marks I expected to see, my chest was intact. If didn't know any better, I'd think it I had a tan and was airbrushed. I felt like I got a new lease on life, which probably wasn't that far from the truth. But my shoulder was killing me, as if I just finished pitching a perfect game in the major leagues. I turned to get a better look at my left shoulder and lifted my shirt sleeve.

What in the...

A raw angry handprint that looked like a giant blister spanned my entire shoulder. Where did I get that? It's like I was branded in Hell.

I heard a slight shuffle behind me. I shifted my eyes to look past my own reflection. How did she sneak up on me? I was going to say as much, but was distracted by her wrist as she lifted her right sleeve to reveal similar handprint wound. I approached her at the door and extended out a hand to evaluate her brand. Before I could reach her, she flinched back.

I sighed and pulled my hand back. "Can't blame you for not trusting me, Blondie." She backed away from me. "You saw me at work."

As I walked out of the bathroom, she quickly sidestepped out of my way. Tugging on my shirt and grabbing a plastic bag from the counter, I pilfered the small store of its mixture of random snack and energy bars from its modestly stocked shelves. Glancing back at Blondie I thought better of it and doubled the load I grabbed. I was never great at sharing food, no matter how cute the girl. Fishing a few bottles of water from the fridge I added them to the bag.

On my way toward the door I walked passed a magazine rack. Busty Asian Beauties. Oh, the good times we've had. I made to reach for the adult literature when I saw Blondie watching me like a hawk. I gave up on the magazine.

I went to the ancient looking cash registered and rummaged through its contents when I got the drawer open. Shoving bills and coins into me pockets, I felt the girl's eyes on me. I'm not sure if she was judging or just watching me. I was about to shoot a justifying quip at her, one she probably wouldn't understand, until the television next to the counter flicked on. The static white noise buzzed around us. I quickly shut it off. This situation was all too familiar. Ghosts, demons, all around evil things, they all loved turning electronics on and off. The radio came to life in the next moment and I didn't waste a single second more before running to the shelves grabbing a new pack of salt.

Popping the top open, I frantically poured salt to line the windowsill. I turned toward the blonde to order her to pitch in, only to find her standing in front of the other window, staring in awe at whatever was outside.

"Blondie! Get away from there!" I yelled at her, but a high-pitched tone pierced through the air.

I clutched my ear, but that did nothing to keep the noise out. I tried pouring more salt, but my brain felt like it was getting scrambled. I fell to the floor when the noise got louder and more painful. I could barely think through the pain and twisted up on the floor. When I finally looked up, I saw that Blondie was completely unaffected. She just stood there and stared out the window. The glass exploded and shattered. A blinding light bathed her as she watched in admiration. I reached up to tug her down, but more glass shattered and the ground trembled.

And as suddenly as everything started, it stopped. I looked around rapidly, and then stood up to look out the window to see nothing there. There were no immediate signs of danger. I approached Blondie and tapped her shoulder when she didn't turn. I expected her to hit me again, but instead she calmly faced me.

Her eyes were brimmed with tears and her voice was soft. "Angel."

I smiled at hearing her first word. "Nope, sorry, the name's Dean." I fell back on the old joke and was happy to finally hear her voice. Okay, so it was a whisper. But I would take anything right now.

"Angel." She repeated, but the tone was different this time -like it was a name or something.

"We got to get out of here before that thing comes back." I grabbed the plastic bag filled with our provisions and marched out the door. Blondie seemed less scared of me and followed me out.

With change in my pocket and a public telephone in my eyesight, I was a man on a mission. Facing the dial pad, I had no idea how I could recall the sequence of numbers I needed. I punched my little brother's cell number in, I was greeted with an automated message saying it was disconnected. The revelation wasn't exactly surprising given our previous record of abandoning compromised phone numbers.

I knew exactly who to call next, but hesitated when I saw Blondie unusually close to the phone booth. Her breath was fogging up the glass as she watched at me. To honest say, it would be incredibly creepy if she didn't look so completely lost. Trying to ignore her, I dialed the next number on my mental list.

After one ring, a familiar voice answered. "Yeah?"

I've never been happier to hear that man's voice. My response probably sounded relieved. "Bobby?"

"Yeah?" He seemed mildly annoyed on the other line. No doubt he was dragged out of research or a TV dinner.

"It's me."

He sounded even more frustrated now. "Who's 'me?'"

"Dean." I sounded almost stunned to say my own name -like I couldn't believe it myself. And it seemed like Bobby didn't believe me either. The dial tone rung out before I could say anything else. What did I expect? Someone who died four months ago was calling. This was a sick joke, or Hell got a phone line installed. Thankfully, I'm stubborn, so I tried the number again.

This time, Bobby was direct to the point when he picked up the phone. "Who is this?"

"Bobby, listen to me." I attempted.

"This ain't funny." He cut me off before I could go further and fumed, "Call again, I'll kill ya."

I sighed in frustration when Bobby hung up again. Okay, I was stubborn but not stupid. Calling again was going to do little to no good.

I leaned my forehead against the glass of the booth and closed my eyes. What was I supposed to do? There's not a protocol in the Winchester book of hunting for this kind of thing. I woke up in a coffin in the middle of what looked like an explosion. There was a mystery girl from Hell fainted or sleeping in the aftermath. Then, to top it all off there was the attack at the gas station.

I opened my eyes and was startled by Blondie who had squatted down to stare up at my face. "Holy crap!" I slammed backward and was met with the folding door. In a flail of arms, I turned and shoved the door open. I raised my voice at her to get my point across. "What the Hell is wrong with you?"

She watched me calmly, probably no realizing what she did wrong or if she even did something wrong. Then, she seemed supremely interested in the now unoccupied phone booth. Stepping past me, she slipped in and picked up the handset. She brought it to her ear and started pressing buttons. Whoever she was dialing had the longest number I've ever seen. I think she got a good twenty digits in. Was she making an international call?

After a long pause she frowned at the box. Pressing another sequence of numbers, she waited. Frustrated, she started yelling. "Angel! Angel!"

I would have offered some change for her to make a call, but I figured that she had no idea what heaven's phone number was so contacting an angel was unlikely. She growled at the offending object, ripped out the handset by its metal cord, and punched the box with resounding force.

"Whoa, calm down!" I tugged the door open as changed spilled out of the public phone. She barely seemed to register her undoubtedly broken hand.

Collecting a handful of change she shoved them into the change slot. She listened closely to the handset. After a while, she sounded defeated. "Angel?"

I was cautious as I reached over to lay a hand on her shoulder. When she faced me, I attempted a comforting smile -something I wasn't used. "Whatever the mean phone did in your past life, I think you killed it." I steered her out of the booth before she destroyed the entire thing. Off to the side, I saw an old beat-up white car and nodded toward it. "I have a friend who might be able to help us. Maybe figure out how we got here."

She furrowed her brows and cleared her throat before saying, "Angel."

Hearing her say the only word she seemed to know, I sighed. "No such thing sweetheart."

I walked us over the car that seemed to be trapped by tall weeds growing around it. God, I hope that thing starts. It didn't look like it had been moved for a good many years.

Maneuvering Blondie to the passenger side, I helped her in after she got over her trepidation of being trapped in a metal cage. Opening the driver's side I pried open the panel under the steering column and tugged at the wires. Even though the age of the car might not be the best for driving across three states, the older model made hotwiring a cakewalk.

After a few attempts, the engine came to life and I grinned at the dash then at the girl. She didn't look pleased that the cage came to life, but I counted my blessings that I didn't have to go chasing after her.

The car was sluggish as I pulled it out of the weeds, but it was fine on the road. As I made our way to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, I wondered why I trusted her. So far, the only thing I could tell about her was that she was fine with salt. For all knew, she could be a demon trying to trick me. Maybe she's what pulled me out of the pit.

But who was I kidding? I saw her soul, so I knew she at least wasn't evil.

Nine hours of driving later, I pulled into Bobby's scrap yard. Blondie kept repeating her one word at random occasions, so I had turned on the radio to local rock stations to prevent her from trying to start up conversations. With her one word, she could only vary it with tones and volume. So far, the topic never went beyond angels. Once the music was on, she seemed distracted by it enough. After a while, she took a long nap.

The opening and closing of the heavy metal car door was enough to startle her awake. I peeked back into the car and shot her an apologetic smile. "Sorry Blondie. We're here."

She frowned in response, not quite understanding what I was saying. But she seemed to be recognizing my new nickname for her. It felt a little like when dog learns its name.

When she didn't get out of the car I stepped away and waved her over to follow. As I climbed up the steps to the front door of the house, I heard her tagging along close behind. Pounding my fist on the familiar door, I waited and spared a brief glimpse at Blondie before the door opened. She looked completely confused by the situation, which was a look I was getting used to with her.

The door creaked open and I smiled at seeing Bobby's shocked face. "Surprise."

Bobby looked like he'd seen a ghost, which was close enough to the truth. "I, I don't..."

"Yeah, me neither. But here I am." I admitted and entered the house and gestured back toward the girl. "This is-"

But he cut me off in introducing Blondie when Bobby brought out a silver knife from behind his back and lunged and slashed at me. I was quick enough to grab Bobby's arm and twisted it, but he got free and backhanded me in the face.

"Bobby, it's me!" I shouted at the man.

"My ass!" Bobby attempted attacking again, but I grabbed a chair to put between us.

Holding up my hands, I yelled back. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait! Your name is Robert Steven Singer. You became a hunter after your wife got possessed and... you're about the closest thing I have to a father." I tried to give an award winning smile. "Bobby. It's me."

I was relieved when it seemed like I was getting through to him. Bobby lowered the knife and stepped toward me and placed a hand on my shoulder. But it seemed like my relief was short-lived when Bobby lashed out again with the knife.

I disarmed him as fast as I could and stepped back with the knife in my hand. I shouted at the man. "I am not a shapeshifter!"

Bobby wasn't convinced. "Then you're a revenant!"

As the older hunter attacked again, I shoved him away. I took the knife and brought it up to my left arm. "Alright. If I was either, could I do this," I sliced across my arm, drawing blood. It hurt, but I'd live. "With a silver knife?"

"Dean?" Bobby said as if he was coming to the realization that I was in fact his good friend John's oldest boy.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you." I grinned at him.

Bobby came at me and attacked with a tight hug. We weren't a group of men that displayed physical affection, but this was a special occasion so I hugged him back. It wasn't everyday that I came back from the dead. He pulled back and gave a rare small smile. "It's... It's good to see you, boy." He glanced over to his front door where Blondie stood in the exact position when the scuffle started. "Who's the girl?"

I shot her a look and motioned her in. She seemed unfazed by the small battle we went through. As she stepped through the door, her eyes shot around taking in her surroundings. When she was within ten feet, I nodded toward her. "This is Blondie."

"Blondie? Like the band?" Bobby took in the girl's appearance and addressed her. "Did Dean con you into something?"

She tilted her head at Bobby, she seemed to be sizing him up. I sighed and shook his head. "She's pulling a Harpo Marx. Hasn't said a word since I met her."

"Angel." She said, realizing she was being talked about.

"I stand corrected." I rolled his eyes. "That's all she's been saying. Angel, angel, angel."

"Angel?" She sounded hopefully.

"No." I snapped and pointed at her like she was a puppy that peed on the carpet. I turned toward Bobby. "I think she thinks an angel busted us out of the pit."

"Us?" Bobby looked over at Blondie. "You woke up with a girl by your side? What is this? Another Saturday night for Dean Winchester?"

"Hey, I don't know. I just, uh, I just woke up in a pine box. She was neatly laying on the ground outside." I scratched the back of my head. "Good for her. I had to climb out of my own grave."

Then out of nowhere, Bobby splashed me and Blondie with holy water. The girl glared angrily. I stared at him numbly, and then spit out the water that got in my mouth. I gave a tight smile. "I'm not a demon either, you know."

"Sorry." Bobby shrugged. "Can't be too careful." I wiped myself off and followed Bobby into his study. Bobby shook his head. "But... that don't make a lick of sense."

"Yeah." I leaned against the wall. "Yeah, you're preachin' to the choir."

"Dean. Your chest was ribbons, your insides were slop." Bobby pointed to my abdomen. "And you've been buried four months. Even if you could slip out of Hell and back into your meat suit-"

"I know, I should look like a Thriller video reject." I said while watching Blondie study the room closely. She seemed fascinated by everything, like she'd never seen a home before.

"What do you remember?" Bobby asked, and saw that she was about to reach for a fragile relic. "Don't touch that Blondie."

"Angel?" She responded.

Bobby raised a brow and turned his attention back to me. I was used to her random word vomit, even though it was the same word over and over. I answered Bobby's question instead. "Not much. I remember I was a hellhound's chew toy and then... lights out. Then I come to six feet under, that was it. Sam's number's not working." I didn't want to acknowledge the possibility, but treaded forward. "He's, uh... he's not..."

Bobby sat down and shook his head. "Oh, he's alive. As far as I know."

"Good." Then the words sunk in. "Wait, what do you mean, as far as you know?"

"I haven't talked to him for months." Bobby admitted.

"You're kidding, you just let him go off by himself?" I caught sight of Blondie in the corner of my eye approaching the same object as before. "What are you a puppy? Don't touch that!" She jumped back from the item at my tone.

Bobby continued on, catching on that this was normal. "Sam was dead set on it."

I gave Blondie a pointed look and brought my attention back to the other hunter. "Bobby, you should've been looking after him."

"I tried." Bobby responded indignantly. "These last months haven't been exactly easy, you know. For him or me. We had to bury you." He pointed to the girl. "And I'm pretty sure someone's out there grieving her too."

"Why did you bury me anyway?" I asked.

"I wanted you salted and burned. Usual drill. But..." Bobby paused collecting his words. "Sam wouldn't have it."

"Well, I'm glad he won that one." I confessed. Blondie continued to poke around the room and was putting me on edge. I stomped toward her and pressed her into a chair. "Sit. Stay."

Bobby smirked at my commands. "Sam said you'd need a body when he got you back home somehow. That's about all he said."

Seeing Blondie stay in her seat, I turned and looked at Bobby suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

"He was quiet. Real quiet." Bobby replied. "And then he just took off. Wouldn't return my calls. I tried to find him, but he didn't want to be found."

I gritted my teeth, "Oh damnit, Sammy."

"What?"

"Oh, he got me home okay." What did Sam get mixed up in this time? "But whatever he did, it is bad mojo."

"What makes you so sure?" Bobby asked.

"You should have seen the grave site. It was like a nuke went off." I remembered this morning's events. "And then there was this... this force, this presence. I don't know, but it, it blew past me at a fill-up joint. And then this." I took off my shirt and pulled up the sleeve of the t-shirt, revealing the welted handprint.

"What in the Hell?" Bobby stood up getting closer.

"It was like a demon just yanked me out. Or rode me out." I walked over to Blondie. "She's got one too." I lifted her right sleeve to reveal her wrist, but froze when there wasn't anything there. I tugged up her left sleeve just in case, there wasn't anything there either. "Where's your mark?" She looked at me like I was hallucinating and crazy. I turned to Bobby. "I swear she had one."

"Sure she's not a demon?" Bobby asked.

"No idea." I stepped back and went to the desk where Bobby set the knife down. Picking up the silver blade I cautiously reached the girl.

Bobby mumbled sideways at me. "You've been babysitting her without making sure?"

"I didn't exactly have unlimited resources." I bit out, and then added. "And I had my reasons." I approached her showing the blade. "Remember when I cut my skin? I need to do that to see if you're kosher."

She watched me, but didn't seem to react. Sure, she's about five-three and a buck ten, but I felt her right hook earlier and saw how she punched that public phone. She wasn't sporting a broken hand, there was more to her than meets the eye. Okay, so I'm rationalizing why I'm scared of her. In my defense, I was looming over her with a really sharp knife.

I slowly reached forward and took her hand and turned the palm up. She watched me as I carefully made a small nick that drew a bead of blood. She looked at her finger and didn't flinch, like it didn't hurt at all.

I backed up and glanced at Bobby. "She seems okay. And she doesn't react to salt either."

Bobby frowned at the tiny wound. "What was that, a pinprick?"

"What?" I shrugged. "She has pretty skin. Seemed like a waste."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Why would a demon get you two out then?"

"To hold up their end of the bargain." I scowled at the thought of Sam negotiating with a crossroads demon.

"You think Sam made a deal." Bobby stated more than asked.

"It's what I would have done." Which is exactly what I did to end up in Hell in the first place.

"And what? He asked for a girlfriend so you wouldn't get lonely?" Bobby studied Blondie who studied him right back. There was something off about her. Actually, there was a lot off about her.

"At least he got me someone cute right?" I grinned, but tried to tamper it into a serious expression when Bobby eyed me.

In order to find Sam, I used my detective skills by calling the cell phone company to switch on the GPS tracking. And by detective skills, I mean using everything I knew about my kid brother who I practically raised. I eventually figured out Sam was off in Pontiac, Illinois. Seriously? How was it that I spent the majority of my life diving?

Sure, I loved driving a lot more than the next guy, but I just came back from the dead. A guy deserved a rest.

It took some coaxing on my part to get Blondie into the car, but eventually the three of us piled into Bobby's ride and off we went in the direction we just came from. Blondie was in the back seat and slept the majority of the ride. I followed her example and also took a nap, Bobby wasn't a conversationalist anyways. I have no idea why after being dead for four months would have me sleepy, but I could barely stay awake even before we reached the Iowa border.

Taking the first Pontiac exit, I pointed to a motel after a few blocks. I would bet my first born child that Sam was staying at that kitschy place. I turned slightly to see that Blondie was still asleep when they pulled into the parking lot. Glancing at Bobby I whispered, "Do you think we can just leave her here?"

"Maybe if we crack a window." The man said after thought.

"Sam is going to be shocked to see me, I don't think he needs to find out I have a pet now too." I paused for a moment, and then nodded. "Lock the doors. She doesn't know how to open a water bottle. A car door is going to be rocket science for her."

Quietly sneaking away, we got the room number from the front desk and made our way to the second floor. We briefly exchanged a look at the heart shape placard indicating the room number. I prepared himself and knocked firmly. After a short beat, the door was opened by a half-dressed dark haired chick. What the? She's like the complete opposite of who I'm looking for. She's short, slim, and wearing nothing more than a tank top and panties. I was looking for gigantor.

She looked at our hands, then raised a brow at us. "So where is it?"

I spared Bobby a confused glance. "Where's what?"

"The pizza... that takes two guys and a girl to deliver? What, is it like that 90s show?" She asked.

"Huh?" I frowned at her question and turned my head to look behind me. At seeing Blondie standing there like she belonged in this set up, I groaned. "I left you in the car."

"Angel." She responded.

"Gah. Fine. Just keep quiet." I turned back to the pants-less girl. "Sorry, I think we got the wrong room."

Then, as if on cue, Sam walked out of the bathroom behind her and asked her distractedly. "Hey, is..." His words trailed off at seeing us. Sam's eyes flicked between me and Bobby in shock, and then in confusion at seeing Blondie. I stole a glimpse back to see her glaring, but I didn't have time for her paranoia.

I grinned at my baby brother. Not wanting to ruin the moment, I softly said, "Heya, Sammy."

Sam was frozen in place, so I helped myself into the room by walking past the brunette. This was an overdue, especially on my part, family reunion. Expecting a hug from my brother, I opened my arms and motioned my hands for Sam to dive in. Sam dove in, while brandishing a knife. Sam may have had height, but I was always the better bare-knuckle fighter. Blocking Sam's attack, I could hear the brunette scream and Bobby moving to get Sam back. Instead, when I narrowed in on what was going on, I found Blondie with her stake in hand ready to strike Sam in the chest.

My eyes widened in fear. "Blondie!"

She halted with a hair's breadth away from piercing Sam. He tried to push away her hand with the offending weapon, but she punched him with her fist enclosed with the stake. Pushing him further into the room with a powerful shove, she glowered at him.

The brunette scurried in, gathered her clothes, and tore out of the room. There was no one stopping her in her escape, as everyone else was focused on Blondie not killing Sam. Bobby and I rushed up behind her and pulled her back.

Sam glared at me and Blondie. "Who are you?"

I left Blondie to Bobby's care and stormed up to my brother. "Like you didn't do this?!"

"Do what?!" Sam yelled back.

Bobby sighed still holding Blondie back -although I was starting to suspect that she was only letting him. "It's him. I've been through this already, it's really him."

"What..." Sam's body relaxed.

I gave a tentative smirk. "I know. I look fantastic, huh?"

Either he was overwhelmed by the months of separation or just loved seeing his big bro, but Sam tugged me into what felt like a desperate embrace. There was a long moment between us where I wasn't sure if I wanted to let him go. This kid really was all I had left of family and I needed to come to grips with the fact that we were back together.

"Don't worry, they're brothers." I heard Bobby say to Blondie.

Coughing and straightening himself, Sam stepped away from me. I, on the other hand, didn't care about the intonations -I just grinned. Sam looked over to Bobby and the enigmatic new female companion. "Who's she?"

"Oh," I walked over to the other two and tapped Bobby to let her go. "Sam, meet Blondie. Blondie, meet Sam. Looks like you got a buy one get one free deal."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "You think I made a deal?"

"That's exactly what we think." Bobby added.

Sam shook his head. "Well, I didn't."

I pegged him with furious eyes. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying." Sam insisted.

"So what now, I'm off the hook and you're on, is that it?" I advanced at Sam in what I hoped was a threatening stance. "You're some demon's bitch-boy? I didn't want to be saved like this."

"Look, Dean." Sam said angrily. "I wish I had done it, all right?"

"There's no other way that this could have gone down." I grabbed the front of Sam's shirt. "Now tell the truth!"

"I tried everything. That's the truth." Sam broke out of my grip. "I tried opening the Devil's Gate. Hell, I tried to bargain, Dean, but no demon would deal, all right? You were rotting in Hell for months. For months, and I couldn't stop it. So I'm sorry it wasn't me, all right? Dean, I'm sorry."

Now I felt like the jerk. I left him after making a deal and he probably blamed himself. He was probably driving himself crazy -albeit in the company of a half naked girl. But hearing the way Sam pleaded me to trust him, I sighed. "It's okay, Sammy. You don't have to apologize, I believe you."

"Don't get me wrong," Bobby said. "I'm gladdened that Sam's soul remains intact, but it does raise a sticky question."

I nodded. "If he didn't pull us out, then what did?"

Blondie perked up at the question and spoke. "Angel."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, she has her theories." I walked over and sat down on the couch in the room. "Actually, theory. Singular."

"I still don't get who she is." Sam studied her and sat down on the rumpled bed. "Did you save my brother?"

I shook my head. "No use, she only knows her one word."

Bobby grabbed two beers and sat down next to me, passing me one. She frowned at Bobby. "Sorry Blondie, I'm not sure if you're legal."

"It also seems like a good idea to keep her sober. She's freakishly strong." I pointed out after taking a swig of my beer. Oh my God, I missed beer: nectar of the Gods. "It seemed like a good idea to keep track of the girl sleeping next to my grave."

"So she's a clue." Sam said as he watched her investigate his room. She seemed utterly fascinated with a coat hanger. "What's wrong with her?"

"I dunno. Maybe Hell affects people differently." I mumbled around my beer.

"You remember it." Sam inquired. "Hell, you remember it."

"Nope. Sorry." I tried changing topics before he pried further. "So what were you doing around here if you weren't digging me out of my grave?"

"Well, once I figured out I couldn't save you, I started hunting down Lilith, trying to get some payback." Sam said.

"All by yourself." Bobby accused. "Who do you think you are, your old man?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry Bobby. I should have called. I was pretty messed up." Sam replied mildly guiltily. "Anyways. I was checking these demons out of Tennessee, and out of nowhere they took a hard left, booked up here yesterday morning."

"When we busted out." I said pointing to myself and Blondie, who was now crouching in front of the fridge with the door open.

"You think these demons are here 'cause of you?" Bobby asked.

"Well, I don't know." I stood up while saying, "Some badass demon drags us out and now this? It's gotta be connected somehow." I walked over to the fridge and closed it. Wagging my finger at her, I really did feel like I was training a dog. "No. Bad Blondie."

She frowned at the end of her cooling session and stared up at me. Her eyes seemed to be searching something on my face, maybe she was trying to read my mood. Perhaps she wasn't as savage as I thought. There was a mind back there behind those eyes. Maybe it was trapped or pushed back, I wasn't sure. At least she was acting like a rebellious dog and not like a feral wolf now.

"How you feelin', anyway?" Bobby's words broke through my thoughts.

I looked up and patted my stomach. "I'm a little hungry."

"No, I mean, do you feel like yourself? Anything strange or different?" Bobby tiptoed.

I narrowed my eyes, I knew exactly what he was getting at. "Or demonic? Bobby, how many times do I have to prove I'm me?"

"Yeah. Well, listen. No demon's letting you loose out of the goodness of their hearts." He motioned toward Blondie. "They've gotta have something nasty planned for you two."

"Well, I feel fine." I tugged Blondie away from her new venture with the air conditioner. "Can't say much about her, though."

"Okay, look, we don't know they're planning. We got a pile a questions and no shovel. We need help." Sam pointed out.

"I know a psychic. A few hours from here." Bobby nodded and finished off his beer and stood up. "Something this big, maybe she's heard the other side talking."

I cheered up at the potential lead. "Hell yeah, it's worth a shot."

Fishing out his phone, Bobby pointed toward the door. "I'll be right back."

Seeing the mischief that Blondie seemed to enjoy getting in, I scooted her toward the couch. She sat down and started bouncing lightly on the seat when she noticed it had springs. Sam bit back a chuckle at her antics. With the air on the less heavy side thanks to our comic relief and resident crazy woman, Sam tugged out the cord around his neck.

"You probably want this back." Sam handed the cord and the dangling amulet to me.

I thought I would never see this thing again. I took the amulet and the weight of it was comfortable in my fingers as I traced the brass figurine. I slipped the cord around my neck and nodded. "Thanks."

After Bobby made the call to his psychic friend, we four were off. That is, until I had to hold Bobby back from killing Blondie. We came to Bobby's, albeit rusted, car with a broken back window, there was a second of simple deduction on Bobby's part to figure out that Blondie kicked her way out of the locked car. She didn't seem to react as Bobby threw a few choice curses at her. When I was able to talk Bobby down from grabbing his gun and shooting her, we started on our next long drive. So we decided that Bobby would cool down alone in his car, and the remaining trio would take the Impala.

I'm not ashamed to say that I was near giddy at the prospect of getting back into my beloved Chevy. I tried giving Blondie a firm lecture as to the etiquettes of keeping my baby unharmed, but I doubt any of it really got through to her.

"You think this psychic is going to know anything?" Sam asked while getting out of the car once we reached our destination.

"I don't know." I answered. I quickly opened the door for Blondie before she crashed through the window. "But it's the best idea we have right?"

Sam scoffed. "Or the only idea."

I shrugged. "That too."

Bobby led the way to the door of the house and knocked. After a few moments, a good looking brunette with curly hair greeted us with a dazzling smile. "Bobby!"

She pulled the Bobby into a hug and lifted him slightly off his feet. I bit back a laugh. Righting himself, Bobby gave rare smile. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

Stepping back she gave a long appreciative once over me and Sam. "So, these the boys?"

"Sam, Dean. This is Pamela Bames, best damn psychic in the state." Bobby introduced.

Pamela looked past us to Blondie, who was currently giving her an even longer once over. Pamela wasn't sure if the girl's eyes were curious or calculating. Either way, she loved a challenge. "Who's the cutie?"

"No clue. Hoping you could help us with that too." I said with smile. "But we like calling her Blondie."

"Trust me. She's not a fan of that little nickname." Pamela rolled her eyes and waved us in to follow. "Come on in."

Pursuing her into the house and to a room with a round table in middle, Bobby asked. "So, you hear anything?"

"Well, I Oujia'd my way through a dozen spirits." She collected random objects around the room. "No one seems to know who broke your boy out, or why. And from what I hear about the girl, she's not even on the record. No one like her has died in the past year. So are you sure she's human?"

"We've tested holy water, salt, and silver. I could try to smack her with iron." Bobby suggested, remembering the poor fate of his car window. "So what's next?"

"A séance, I think." She grinned and walked to the table, flipping the tablecloth over to show a black side covered in symbols. "See if we can see who did the deed."

"You're gonna summon the damn thing here." Bobby said incredulously.

"No, I just want to get a sneak peek at it. Like a crystal ball without the crystal."

"I'm game." I said, keeping hold of Blondie's arm before she could wreak havoc on the room with too many occult knickknacks. With my luck, she'd summon a poltergeist. I maneuvered her to sit in one of the chairs around the table and told her to stay. She seemed obedient enough as she traced the symbols on the tablecloth with her eyes.

In a few short moments, the rest of the occupants were also around the table. Pamela sat between us two escape artists from Hell. "Right. Take each other's hands." Seeing that Blondie was about to touch one of the candles, Pamela took her hand quickly. "I also need to touch something our mystery monster touched, sweetheart."

"Her wrist." I inserted. I glanced at Sam and took in a steadying breath. He was probably going to think the worst of this situation. Taking off my outer shirt, I pulled my t-shirt sleeve to reveal the blistered handprint.

Sam couldn't keep the shock from his face at seeing the wound. Turning his eye toward Blondie as Pamela pushed up her sleeve, Sam frowned. "I thought you said her wrist."

I shook my head in frustration. "Apparently she's Wolverine. She still had the print on her hand when I first found her."

"It's fine." Pamela said smiling at the clueless girl. "Hopefully this will answer some question about you too." As the psychic closed her eyes the rest of us did the same, even Blondie -pitching in as if it were a game. With a steady voice Pamela began to speak. "I invoke, conjure and command you, appear unto me before this circle."

She repeated the phrase multiple times without fail, even when the television in the corner flicked on and buzzed with static. I've been in this game long enough to know this was a bad sign.

"I invoke, conjure, and command..." She paused and tilted her head and shook her head. "Castiel? No. Sorry, Castiel. I don't scare easy."

I snapped my his eyes open along with everyone around the table but Pamela. I repeated the name to test it if it was familiar. "Castiel?"

I didn't know the name, but Blondie reacted to it. She looked worried as she shook Pamela arm, trying to get her attention. What's going on? What did Blondie know?

The psychic ignored Blondie's panic. "Its name. It's whispering to me, warning me to turn back." She repeated her chants. "I conjure and command you, show me your face." She was unrelenting and echoed her own words.

The contents and furniture around the room began to rattle. The white noise from the television grew louder. Bobby sputtered. "Maybe we should stop."

Pamela was resilient. "I almost got it."

The room shook violently. I wanted to tug my shoulder away, but I needed answers. I've been in enough sticky spots in my life to know that this was extra sticky. This was going to go from bad to worse. But Blondie wasn't after answers. She tugged her wrist away from Pamela, hoping to cut the connection.

The other woman shook her head. "Sorry, sweetheart, but I still got Dean." She raised her voice at the entity. "I command you! Show me your face! Show me your face no-"

I saw the look in Blondie's eyes. I've seen it before. But I wasn't able to stop her before she acted. Pamela's words were quickly cut off with a right hook to her face. She let out a guttural yell and snapped her eyes open as the blow from the fist caused her to flip back in her seat. Losing her grip from my shoulder, Pamela also lost her connection to the entity. Instead, she was preoccupied with nursing her nose.

"She broke my nose!" Pamela glowered at the figure of the petite blonde standing over her with her fist still raised.

Bobby and I immediately scrambled to the ground to attend to Pamela. Her nose was bleeding profusely and the skin around the bridge bone of her nose was starting to bruise. Bobby winced at seeing the bone off skew, it was most likely broken. Sam disappeared for a moment and returned from the kitchen with ice wrapped in a dishtowel.

After helping the psychic sit back up, I got to my feet. I stomped toward Blondie and got in her face. "The hell is wrong with you!" I motioned behind me to the commotion. "She was the only possible lead we had! And now she has to make a stop at the emergency room."

Blondie narrowed her eyes at my tone and stood her ground. "Angel." She said evenly, slowly, and full of menace.

I growled. "Give it a rest! This not the work of an angel!" I lowered my voice so that it was little over a whisper, so that no one else could hear my threatening voice. "I saw you in Hell. I was down there for my own reasons and you for yours. We're not the type of people angels save."

She probably didn't understand fully what I said, but her eyes softened. Either I hit a cord or my best intimidating voice was as powerful as rainbows and unicorns. Her green eyes searched my face as if looking for an answer. Blondie carefully brought a right hand up gently and cradled my cheek. Her fingers traced along my ever-present stubble. I felt frozen. After a long quiet moment, she smiled sadly up at me. "Angel."

I furrowed my brows. There was too much I didn't know about this girl. Maybe I was being foolish by keeping her by my side. For all I knew, she was a demon who was immune to the usual tests. And I had seen her, in Hell. But I had also seen her soul -and that wasn't something you could hide down there. At the present moment, I didn't know if she was just repeating her favorite word or calling me an angel. I went with the former, it was the least ridiculous of the two.

The rest of day led nowhere. Bobby rushed Pamela to the hospital, while the rest of us drove back to Sam's motel room. Blondie seemed calm enough. It was as if her previous violent outburst was a onetime deal. Then again, I remembered the punch I received when we first met and the stake she threatened Sam with. She was too much of a livewire.

Once we got to the motel room, I set her on the seat I placed next to the radiator. Taking out a pair of handcuffs, I locked her down. She looked at the handcuffs and tugged on them, only for it to catch on the thick metal pipe of the radiator. Blondie didn't seem upset by it, more curious than anything.

"I usually like blondes in handcuffs to have a happy ending." I wisecracked, but my wit was lost on her. I made exaggerated gestures with my hands at her, "You: stay here. We: go get food. Comprende?"

She kept quiet in her seat. Sighing, I turned to Sam and motioned to leave. Seeing the confused look on the girl's face, Sam added. "We'll bring you back something."

Leaving Blondie to hopefully stay put, we went to the nearly abandoned diner across the street. What we didn't expect was that the few people that were actually in the diner were demons. That was exactly my luck wasn't it? I miraculously pulled off reading their bluff and escaped the diner, while getting a few punches in with the demon inhabiting the waitress. Not going to lie, smacking a demon around that couldn't fight back felt good.

Before returning back to the motel, we swung by the local fast food joint. Gathering a variety of items from the menu, we made our way back to the motel.

"She's not going to want a bacon cheese burger." Sam reasoned, following me down the hall.

I scoffed. "Hey, I'm the one that just got out of the pit. I know what people like us crave, and it's not a hippie salad."

"Did you see how tiny she was?" Sam argued. "Girls like her barely eat."

I chuckled. "You should have seen the way she devoured the energy bars." Reaching the door, I swung it open and froze in the doorway seeing her loose. "How in the hell?" Stalking over to where she was now sitting on the bed, I gripped her wrist. Blondie was wearing her end of the handcuff as if it were a bracelet, with a few chain links dangling from the side. Letting go of her wrist, I went to the radiator to find the other end of the handcuff and a broken link on the ground. I looked over to Sam. "She broke through metal?"

Sam warily looked at the girl and sat down on the other bed. "I guess we should be happy that she didn't break the radiator."

"Way to look at the silver lining there, Sammy." I grumbled and sat on the same bed that Blondie occupied. Sifting through the bag of food, I tossed Sam a plastic box with salad along with a fork. I shifted to look at Blondie and brought out the two options we bought for her. "Disgusting rabbit food that Sam calls a house salad, or a delicious juicy bacon cheeseburger with the works?"

"Way to be unbiased." Sam rolled his eyes and started in on his salad.

I shrugged. "It's not like she understands me." I waved the two options in hand to her. "So which will it be Blondie?"

The way she tilted her head to the side reminded me yet again of a dog. Maybe she wasn't human, maybe she was a pet dog that got dragged down to Hell and was shoved into the wrong meat suit after the fact.

She cautiously leaned forward and reached out. But instead of grabbing the burger like I expected, she took both and scooted back to her spot against the headboard.

I stared dumbly for a second and smirked looking at Sam. "At least she has a balanced diet."

Soon after finishing my own burger, I tried researching a bit with a dusty large book but fell victim to sleep.

I don't know how much time passed, but I was startled awake by the out-dated television and radio buzzing white noise in the room. Years living at the edge of my seat fighting monsters honed my muscle memory. I was grabbing the shot gun and leaping to my feet before my head realized I was facing danger.

My eyes swept quickly through the room and saw that Sam was nowhere to be seen. Where the hell did that kid go now? Blondie, on the other hand was gazing out the window in awe again. "Get away from there!"

Rushing to her, I gripped her arm and tugged her away from the windows when she didn't listen. The noise from the TV and radio kept on. Whatever swept by us at the gas station was coming for a repeat visit, and I wasn't naïve enough to think we were escaping unscathed this time.

I grimaced as the high-pitched tone rung through my ears. My ears felt like they were going to bleed out and I collapsed to the ground again. Instead of ignoring me and staring out the windows like before, Blondie crouched next to me and gripped my shoulders. I caught her look for a brief second, and it looked worried. The mirrors that hung from the ceiling shattered and broken glass rained down. She used her body to cover my back. Was she trying to protect me from the glass with her tiny body? The room rattled and the windows were the next to shatter. I screamed in pain as the tone split through my brain.

Suddenly, Blondie yelled above me. "Angel!"

Bobby burst in through the door at that moment. He called out for me, "Dean!"

Blondie whipped her eyes toward Bobby. She turned back to the window and shouted furiously at the bright light. "Angel!"

And just as suddenly as the chaos started, it ended. Bobby rushed over to look us over. Just as soon as I could get my brain unscrambled, I pushed Bobby and Blondie aside. I headed out with my arsenal in tow. This was ending, now.

The other two followed wordlessly behind me on my trek to the parking lot. The look on my face was probably not inviting for a vocal inquiry. Getting outside, I cursed under my breath when I saw that the Impala was missing. After a beat, I walked over to Bobby's car with the broken window. "We're taking your car."

"Okay." Bobby answered dumbly and got into the car after opening the door for Blondie to also get in. "So where are we going?"

"I saw an abandoned barn on the way into town." I said while glancing back to check Blondie stayed put. "We're going there."

I pulled out my phone and dialed Sam. He claimed he took the Impala to grab a burger because he couldn't sleep. I knew better, he was lying. I said Bobby and I were heading out for drinks. He knew better, I was lying. We let each other lie, because it was easier than telling the truth.

When I hung up, Bobby glanced over at me. "Why the hell didn't you tell him?"

"Because he just tried to stop us." I grumbled.

Bobby frowned. "From what?"

"Summoning this thing." I glared out the window. "It's time we faced it head-on."

Bobby tried to convince me that my ideas were too radical and it was going to get me killed, but I was a dog with a bone. I argued that it was better to confront it than to be caught by surprise. It was a short drive to get to the isolated old barn.

My mind was a mess while I thought over the past thirty-six hours. Between waking up in my coffin, the blonde in the field, and the monster that tried to bleed my ears out, I was pissed. There were too many unanswered question. Sure, that's pretty much the lives of us Winchesters, but I'll be damned if I owed a debt to a demon who got me out of Hell. I mentally groaned at my own pun.

I sent Bobby off with a can of spray paint into the barn while I unpacked the car for necessary items. I was at a loss of what to do with Blondie, as she was a difficult one to assign with tasks. Then again, she did show off some intense strength. I handed off some of the non deadly objects, mainly books, from the trunk and she took them obediently. My own little pack mule.

Grabbing an armful of weapons, I walked over to the barn. "Come on, Blondie. Let's get this show on the road."

Once inside the dilapidated building, I saw the two rickety tables in the middle. Either that is really convenient, or Bobby wrestled those out of somewhere. Spreading the weapons out on the table, I took what she carried and spread it out on the other.

Seeing all the symbols on the walls and floor, I nodded in approval. "That's a hell of an art project you've got going there."

"Traps and talismans from every faith on the globe." Bobby finished off a symbol and walked over to us by the table. "How you doin?"

I swept my arms across the lined up product like a good salesman. "Stakes, iron, silver, salt, knife. I mean, we're pretty much set to catch and kill anything I've ever heard of."

Bobby shook his head worried. "This is still a bad idea."

"Yeah, Bobby. I heard you the first ten times." I grabbed Blondie's arm before she could go investigating the symbols. "Don't wander off. We don't know what's coming." I nodded to Bobby. "What do you say we ring the dinner bell?"

Bobby reluctantly went over to the other table and started the ritual. He continued chanting over the bowl with ritual smoked. After the climatic end of the ritual, the air was dead still. I whipped my head around the room waiting for a sign of anything, but the room was silent.

I gave Bobby a side glance. "Isn't this usually an instant thing?"

We stood around for while. And by a while, I mean a long while. Blondie eventually plopped on the floor and looked up at us. Seeing her sitting, Bobby shrugged and hoped up on the table. I kept guard for a long moment after that, but this was taking a lot longer than we expected so I took the other table as a seat.

I swung my legs, bored. "You sure you did the ritual right?" Bobby glared at me. "Sorry. Touchy, touchy, huh?" I shot a conspiring glance at Blondie but she seemed more preoccupied as she stared at the ceiling.

I followed her line of sight. As if on cue, the roof trembled. Leaping off the table quickly, Bobby and I armed ourselves with shotguns. Seeing Blondie completely unruffled by the situation, I grabbed her arm and tugged her up. "On deck Blondie." I planted her next to me while I kept my gun on the ready. "Wishful thinking, but maybe it's just the wind."

Then the doors burst open. What stormed through that door was the opposite of what I expected. I expected menacing and snarling. Instead, I got a tax accountant. This guy was in a suit, tie, and trench coat. He looked ready for a business meeting, not facing two hunters and a crazy lady.

The light bulbs hanging above exploded in a shower of shattered glass and sparks when he passed below them. Bobby and I emptied our shotguns into the intruder's chest, but he didn't even falter. What was this thing? A shotgun usually at least slowed monsters down, but he wasn't having it.

Whipping out the demon knife, I yelled at the guy. "Who are you?"

When he finally said something, his voice was deeper than I expected and monotone. "I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition."

"Yeah, thanks for that. Castiel, was it?" Without another warning, I stabbed the knife into Castiel's chest. He simply looked down at it and pulled it out, dropping it to the floor.

Bobby attacked from behind, trying to catch Castiel off guard. But Castiel grabbed the Bobby's weapon and swung him around. This guy was faster and stronger than any demon I've seen. And that's why I couldn't stop him from lightly touching Bobby's forehead, which caused him to collapse to the ground.

Castiel looked from me and then to Blondie. "We need to talk. Alone." I ignored him, and went to Bobby instead to check his pulse. "Your friend's alive." I glared at him.

"Who are you?" I repeated his question.

"Castiel." He answered frankly.

"I figured that much." Pulling myself up, my glare didn't waver. "I mean what are you?"

Castiel looked at Blondie who up to this point just stood there like nothing was happening. "You didn't tell him?"

She focused on the conversation, as if this were the first time she noticed the new occupant. "Angel."

Castiel looked at me. "She's told you."

I felt my eyes widen. "What?"

"I'm an angel of the Lord." Castiel clarified as if it were obvious.

"Get the hell out of here." I bit out. "There's no such thing."

The alleged angel's frown deepened. "This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith." Lightning flashed out of nowhere, but the noise from the thunder was the least distracting thing about this moment. In flash of the lightning, I saw a pair of great shadowy wings spread behind him. When the lightning stopped, the wings were gone.

Blondie was right all along? I turned my head to look at her. "So what is she? Your one-note messenger?"

"That would be a waste of her talents." Castiel furrowed his brows, obviously not getting sarcasm. "My true form can be overwhelming to humans, and so can my real voice. But you already knew that."

"You mean the gas station and the motel, that was you talking?" Castiel nodded at my question. "Buddy, next time, lower the volume."

"That was my mistake. Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them. I was wrong." He stepped up to Blondie and observed her face. "However, she can. It may have something to do with what she is."

"What she is?" I narrowed my eyes. "What is she?"

"She is damaged and confused." He went to bring his fingers to her forehead, but this time I was fast enough to stop him. I wasn't about to have another repeat of Bobby. Castiel paused. "I am not hurting her. I'm helping."

How a spry looking office worker overpowered me, I have no idea. But in the next second he pressed two fingers to her forehead. Blondie's eyes widened and she took in a gasping breath. She fell to her knees and lost her connection with Castiel. She caught herself before completely crumpling to the ground.

"Blondie!" I crouched next to her in panic. "You okay?"

After catching her breath over a long silent moment, she pushed me away with a steady hand. I let her go and stood up when she did. Taking a step back she turned her head up to look up at us. Her green eyes were hard and completely lucid. It was like she finally knew where the hell she was. She raised a brow at Castiel and spoke clearly, "You couldn't have done that earlier?"

Holy crap. I shouldn't be shocked by a healthy looking girl in her twenties saying a complete sentence, but I was. Did Castiel unscrambled her brain or something? It wasn't the first time I heard her voice. I mean she repeated 'angel' enough to make me sick. But this was different. There was no comparison to the amount of confidence she exuded in her one single question now. Her posture was also drastically different. The on-guard slight crouch and speculative gaze was gone. Did she just set her hands on her waist and cock a hip?

"My true visage would have burned you again." Castiel answered.

"And what's this? Your fake visage?" She asked sarcastically. Now she managed sarcasm? "IRS agent?"

"This is a vessel." He answered while tugging on his trench coat.

"You're walking around in someone else's body? Been there, done that, you're messing up a life there." She crossed her arms.

"He's a devout man, he actually prayed for this." Castiel justified.

I kept quiet, or more like I was shocked into silence. The girl went from crazy to snarky. Actually, I was now in the process of categorizing her as a spitfire with a smart mouth. I shook myself out of my shock and stepped forward in between the two to literally get into the conversation. "I don't get it. What's going on? Who is she supposed to be?"

"I'm right here, you know. You can ask me now that I'm not crazy nine ways to Sunday." Now that she was acting less like an insane asylum fugitive, it was easier to tell she actually was hot. If this was less of a barn where we summoned this thing that claimed to be an angel and more of a bar with booze, I would have probably hit on her. But now was not the moment. Blondie raised a brow at me and I could have sworn there was a tiny smirk at the corner of her lips.

"And Dean? It's not Blondie." She added, "I'm Buffy, the Slayer."


	3. Enough to Plague a Saint

Author Notes: I must say, I am surprised by the amount of visitors to this story. I honestly wondered if it would even bump over the single digits. Instead, visitors reached the triple digits. So, wooo! *~*~*~* Yes, that's typing confetti. So thank you to the reviewers, fav'ers, and followers! I don't plan to update as quickly as I have been, but I know I left it at a pretty big teaser so I decided to indulge you guys early. Let me know what you think!

**Disclaimer: The **_**Supernatural**_** and **_**Buffy the Vampire Slayer**_** world and all characters depicted are a creation of Eric Kripke and Joss Whedon, respectively.**

**Enough to Plague a Saint**

By Hoshi-ni-Onegai

_Buffy POV_

I was getting really tired of that nickname. Granted, it was probably my fault for not introducing myself, but I needed to set this guy right. I turned toward the Hell escaped hunter. "And Dean? It's not Blondie." The next words coming out of my mouth were familiar, and oddly comforting. "I'm Buffy, the Slayer."

Dean, who kind of reminded me of a rugged looking Ken doll, just stared at me. After a beat, he frowned and shifted his attention between us. "Sorry, is that supposed to mean something?"

"She's the vampire slayer." Cas clarified.

Dean let out a snort. "A vampire slayer? That's it?"

Well, I should have expected that. With all the potentials activated, running across a slayer is probably more common than running into angels. That certainly makes me feel not special.

"Not a vampire slayer." I corrected. "The vampire slayer. One who slays the vampires and anything else that goes bump in the night?"

"So you're a hunter. Like me."

I groaned and looked over to our resident angel. I've never run into an angel, but his getup was throwing me. Evil fighting and ties never went well together, hence the reason why Giles and Wesley eventually stopped wearing them. I shot tie-wearing Cas a look. "He's a hunter?" Castiel didn't respond, so I turned back to Dean and gave the usual spiel. "Into every generation a slayer is born: one girl in all the world, a chosen one. She alone will wield the strength and skill the fight the vampires and blah blah blah."

"Wait." Dean gave me a once over, but it wasn't a compliment -he was sizing me up like an opponent. "The slayer? You mean the myth?"

"Oh, so you have heard of me." I briefly wondered where I'm filed away in the demon encyclopedia A to Z; would I fall under V for 'vamprie slayer' or S for 'slayer?' Probably S. Slayer comma the, after all. "Anyways, everything else you kill and maim are myths. Not sure why a supernatural soldier for the side of good is unbelievable." I turned my attention back to Cas. "What I want to know is why you got me out of Hell, Cas."

"Cas?" He questioned the nickname. "Would you have rather stayed in Hell?"

"I've been in this game a while, buddy. The Powers don't grant free favors." I pointed to Dean. "And why a hunter? How's he special?"

Dean frowned. "Thanks a lot, Blondie."

I glared. I've heard one too many blonde jokes to like the nickname. "It's Buffy. Not Blondie."

He blatantly ignored my correction and talked to Cas instead. "Well, I'm not buying what you're selling, so what are you really?"

"I told you." Cas frowned. "Are all humans this skeptical or is it just you two?"

"I deal with things trying to kill me for a living." Dean hissed. "Why would an angel rescue me from Hell?"

"Good things do happen, Dean."

At Cas' words, something clicked in my head. I don't care how young, attractive, and how he was sporting the perfect amount of a five o'clock shadow -I wasn't trusting this angel. I shook my head at him. "I know why now." Dean shot me a confused look. I tilted my head up at Cas, calling him out for the truth I now knew in my gut. And my gut has been more than reliable over the years. "There's an apocalypse coming and they need all their pieces on the chess board."

"Not an apocalypse. It is the Apocalypse." Cas responded, placing the emphasis on 'the.'

I jeered. "The end of the world, is the end of the world. What makes yours so special?"

"You've grown cynical, Slayer." Cas looked me over, like my cynicism was hanging out like a shirttail.

"Can you blame me?" I bit out before I could stop myself. But then I saw how confused Cas looked by my anger, and I let out a tired sigh. "So what do you need me to do? How am I averting this apocalypse?"

"Help Dean." Cas turned his attention to the hunter. "Keep him alive."

I could only be thankful the assignment was to keep him alive, and not myself. I was not good at that. I had a better track record keeping people alive than keeping myself alive. Okay, that's not exactly true. I had a heavy body count on my conscience too. Too heavy most of the time. But who else had a personal death count? I've died three times already? Maybe four, if you count the time the nerd trio shot me.

"Why pull me from Hell?" Dean gruffly asked and pulled me out of my thoughts. I didn't even know the guy very well, but my heart broke at hearing his question.

"What's the matter?" Cas watched Dean carefully. "You don't think you deserve to be saved?"

Dean avoided the direct question. "Why'd you do it?"

"Because God commanded it." Cas said evenly looking at the both of us now. "Because we have work for you. Dean is the only one that can end it."

I shared a look with Dean, and then both let out our own respective versions of a distrustful snort.

"God, that's a new one." I raised a brow. "You mean, the Powers."

"I mean God." Cas frowned. "You believed me before."

"Yeah, because I was a step above a rabid animal. Big shiny glowy thing telling me he saved me from Hell? That's going to be my best buddy." I motioned to Dean. "And tell me to watch over him, because he's one of the good guys? Sure. But if you think I'm going to be the good little obedient slayer after you unscramble my brain, you're in for a rude awakening."

"Worse than now?" Cas asked.

"Oh, I'm being nice right now." I mocked. "So how's the Ken doll here going to save the world?"

Dean frowned at my description and threw one of his own. "And how's Barbie going to keep me alive?"

"This is a lot of questions." Cas stated and stood for a long moment, then suddenly vanished.

I blinked to make sure I was seeing things right. I swept my eyes through the barn, but I saw no head nor trench coat of the angel. Focusing my attention on Dean, I furrowed my brows. "Why have the showy entrance and then vanish? Shouldn't he fly away or something?"

Dean ignored my question and raced over to where Bobby was on the ground. "Bobby, wake up." He shook the man harder than he should have, but called again. "Bobby, you okay?"

I didn't need to be a genius to figure out that Bobby was important to the two brothers. It says a lot about their relationship, being that Bobby was the first person Dean went to go see after coming back.

Bobby stirred awake and gave a surly grunt. "Peachy." He grumbled and sat up. "Where'd the accountant go?"

I walked over to them and offered my hand to Bobby as a help up. I shrugged, "Said his piece and vanished."

Bobby numbly took my hand and I easily got the guy up. He stared in shock. Maybe I used too much strength to get him up?

"You're talking." Bobby muttered.

Oh, that. Not the strength then. "I talk, walk, and tie my own shoes." I grinned. "Cas fixed my noggin. Kinda wish he was around back in '01, but who's complaining?"

"Cas?" Bobby shot a confused look to Dean.

"Her nickname for the angel." Dean clarified. "And I don't think he's coming back."

"Angel? So Blondie was right?" Bobby asked surprised.

God, that stupid name again. I frowned. "Buffy. The name's Buffy."

"She's the Slayer, apparently." Dean said as if he was humoring me. The tone he used made it seem like I claimed to be the queen of England. He went over to the table and gathered the various spread out weapons.

"Slayer? As in the Slayer?" Bobby emphasized 'the.' "Shouldn't you be on a hellmouth?"

I went over to the second table to help collect the other objects. "At least someone knows his lore." Balancing the pile of books, bowls, and random herbs, I nodded toward the door. "So are we ready?"

Bobby couldn't hide his confusion as Dean led the way to the doors. Following behind us to his own car, Bobby spoke up. "You two are surprisingly too calm about this."

"I am not calm." Dean's voice was obviously on edge. "That was no angel."

I was pretty calm about it, but better not to tell Dean. He might think I'm insane again. I unloaded my cargo after Bobby popped the trunk and said, "I dunno. He might be the real thing."

"You've run into them before?" Dean seemed to wanting a straight answer.

"Nope." I admitted. "But people rarely lie about what they are."

"Well, that makes him not people." Dean snapped.

I was surprised by his reaction. "You need to calm down. I'll take care of this. You rest your pretty head and leave it to the professionals."

"I am a professional. I've been doing this all my life girly." His frustration and anger was bubbling forward. Girly? Really? If I had a dollar for every time someone underestimated me because I'm a girl, I would be a millionaire eight times over.

"Look, I'm sure this isn't your first rodeo, but this is the big leagues. Killing monsters and stopping Armageddon are two different things." I leaned against the car and considered his stiff stance. "It's not your responsibility to do this. You shouldn't be worrying about these kinds of things. It's too heavy a weight on person's shoulders."

"What? And it's not too heavy for you?" Dean sounded accusing.

"It's part of my destiny." I honestly answered and opened the back door of the car to slip in. "I'm sure it's the only reason why they bothered to rip from Hell."

Dean grabbed the door and held it open before I had a chance to close it. I looked up at his stern face. "If you believe that angel, then you probably believe the part where I need to end it right?"

My mind immediately went to Dawn and Angel, and how they were the key to stopping the end of the world. With Angel, I was still young and inexperienced and I had to send him to Hell. But with Dawn, I learned. It's still probably the proudest moment of my life to keep that girl alive.

I nodded to Dean. "I'm sure we'll need your blood in the end for some hokey ritual."

He pulled back a little. "Why do think it would be my blood?"

"It's always blood." I stated, instantly flashing back to when Spike first said it.

Bobby cleared his throat, trying to catch out attention. "Can we do this back at the motel? I'm sure whatever you two chuckleheads explain is going to need to be repeated to Sam." He moved to the driver's side door and shot us a look before getting in. "Let's do this show once."

I remained unusually quiet and glanced up at Dean who also kept quiet. I bit back a smile and silently mouthed, 'chuckleheads?' A smiled tugged at the corner of Dean's lips and he simply shook his head, and made his way to the passenger's side door.

Once on the road back to the motel, I leaned forward and rested my chin on the seat between the two men. "Bobby?"

He glanced back at me. He looked like he still wasn't used to me talking. "Yeah?"

"Sorry about your window." I apologized in the sweetest voice I could muster. "Also, can you apologize to Pamela for me? Her eyes would have burned out of her sockets, but punching her might not have been the best move. It wasn't exactly my proudest moment."

Bobby tensed his lips, but let out a conceding sigh. "Sit back before you go flying through my front window."

Scooting back, I smiled at Bobby's gruff attitude -he was like the rough around edges uncle I never had. There was something about him that reminded me of Giles. Between feeling insane and meeting an angel, I hadn't had the chance to think about how I got here. The last thing I remembered on this side of Hell was the destruction of the Hellmouth. Who got out alive? Where were they now?

I tried to shake off my thoughts when they started trailing into how I didn't get out a live and where I ended up. It was probably best not to think about my time between Sunnydale and being back on the surface. Thinking about my time downstairs started the screams ringing in my ears again. Why couldn't Cas just have erased that portion of my memory? But I guess I should be thankful that he sorted my head out. My last time coming back from the dead was an entirely different experience. Heck, I felt well adjusted right now -for me that is.

When we get back to the motel, Dean told us not to bother going back up to the room. Instead, Dean barked out orders to Sam over the phone to get his shit together and get to the car. I have no doubt as to who is the older sibling, he talks to Sam the way I sometimes talk to Dawn.

While we were waiting, Dean and Bobby negotiated as to who got stuck with me. Way to make a girl feel wanted, gentlemen. I didn't hear the entire discussion, but they eventually decided that I would occupy the back seat of the Impala on the way back to Bobby's house. Bobby took a head start and left with his car before Sam even came down.

Another car trip? I was never the biggest fan of road trips. The short drive from Sunnydale to LA felt long to me, and I could make that trip in about an hour. There was just nothing to do in a car, and the radio was only entertaining for so long. I think I just have a problem with sitting still. I'm the Slayer after all, my body was literally made to move. Anyways, I have places to go and people to see. And I really doubt South Dakota was on my list of places to hit up.

When Sam came down with his bag, he made a straight line to the trunk of the Impala. Even though the memory was a little fuzzy, I remembered my Slayers senses kicking in around Sam. I know he isn't a vampire. I saw him in daylight for one thing, and he was giving off a different vibe. Sam was something more sinister than a vamp. There was something evil lurking under his skin. But then, there was also the human part of him that overwhelmed that glimmer of evil. Then again, I really couldn't judge him after finding out the shadow men shoved a demon inside the first Slayer. I needed the whole story before crying witch.

"So, I'm guessing the beers were a lie." Sam accused as he shoved his bag into the car. "I was wondering why you took Blondie anyways. Mixing her with booze doesn't seem like the smartest idea."

I huffed at hearing the stupid nickname, better to nip this in the bud before it becomes my new name. "I get it. I wasn't exactly sane and forthcoming with my name, but let's give the nickname a rest."

Sam turned his head slowly to me and froze. You would think he saw a ghost or something. When he thawed enough to turn to Dean, he was still speechless.

Dean was stern and pensive. "Supposedly an angel fixed up her brain."

"And I'm sure your brother can fill you on everything." I reached my hand out. "Can I borrow your phone?"

"S-sure." Sam fished out his cell and handed it over. "You have someone to call?"

"Maybe, I'm calling 411." What the heck is up with this cellphone? There was a full keyboard on this tiny thing. I think my fingers were too big to type with it, let alone Sam the giant. Also, how do I dial a number with alphabet keys? It looked like one of those phones that business people get to replace their palm pilots. I tried hitting a button to at least turn it one. Yeah, this thing had a dizzying amount of options. But my hand froze before I returned it back to Sam. My eyes zeroed in on the date that was prominently displayed at the top of the screen. I knew it was September, I had heard Dean read it off the newspaper back at the gas station. But I didn't know which September. I had assumed 2003. I was off. Way off.

"Do you know how to use a Blackberry? I know they can be a little tricky." Sam reached for his phone when he saw I was just staring at the thing. "Here, I can look up what you need. Who are you looking for? I'll Google them."

"Rupert Giles." I answered numbly. I barely understood what Sam said to me, but it seemed like he was getting me the information I needed.

I don't know why the year shocked me, but it did. It was 2008, which means that I was in Hell for five years and four months. It actually felt longer than that, a lot longer. I recalled what Giles once explained about hell dimensions. Time didn't necessarily flow at the same stream between here and there. I tried to shake the thought away. The nightmares were clawing from the inside of my skull.

"Do you remember everything since waking up?" Dean asked suddenly while Sam continued his search.

I was mildly startled, but answered anyways. "Kind of. We're in Illinois right?" At his confirming nod, I continued. "It feels a little like remembering a really bad drunken night. I have no idea why I did some of the stuff I did, but at least I didn't wake up naked in bed with some strange dude."

I could almost see the lascivious comment pour out of Dean, probably out of habit for the guy, but Sam spoke up from his search. "Rupert Giles. Librarian at Cleveland State University."

I groaned at hearing the location. "Of course he would go to another hellmouth." I sighed. "Okay, this is where I leave you then. Good luck guys."

I turned away and walked toward the motel lobby, but I could feel Dean chasing after me. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Cleveland, apparently." I was never great with goodbyes, so escaping without the pomp and circumstance seemed the best bet for me.

"You heard Castiel. Aren't you supposed to help me stop the apocalypse?" He pointed out.

Sam approached us and heard the tail end of Dean's question. "Apocalypse?"

I ignored Sam's question, I didn't have time for this. "It's not like you believe him. If you think he's some kind of demon, what better way to stick it to him than to get away from the girl he assigned to protect you." I motioned to Sam. "Anyways, you have Chewbacca at your side, Han Solo."

"Chewbacca?" Sam repeated my description of him, but kept on task. "You're supposed to protect Dean?"

"Not now, Sammy." Dean shot a warning look to his brother and then turned back to me. "You're safer with us."

"That's a sweet notion Dean, but I can take care of myself." Oh, how naïve this boy was. "And in my experience, holding multiple fronts against the end of the word is a good idea."

"How the hell are you getting to Ohio?" Dean rebutted.

"Hitchhiking? All I know is that I'm going in the opposite direction of you two, so it's been real." I kept moving toward the lobby.

"You're going to get yourself killed." Dean was acting chivalrous, but he didn't seem all that comfortable in that role. "I'll make you a deal. After we figure out what's going on, I'll drive you to Cleveland."

I decided to cut him some slack. Letting out an exasperated breath, I turned and stopped. I glanced at both brothers, even though Sam just seemed to be tagging along and lost as to what was really happening. "Look, you two seem nice enough, but that doesn't mean I trust you. And if I waited around for you guys to figure out this apocalypse out, it'll be May before I get to leave. This isn't something you figure out overnight."

Sam turned on the puppy dog charm and tried to talk me out of leaving. "There are things out there that you don't know about. We'll keep you safe."

Oh, that's rich. Then again, I wasn't exactly forthcoming with everything about me. My past experience told me that sometimes, it was better keep things secret instead of revealing everything. Better safe than sorry.

Dean shoved Sam at his comment. "That's not the angle you want to go with this chick."

"Well, this chick is leaving and neither of you can do much about it." I shrugged. "I appreciate the sentiment, but just like how Dean went running to friend and family, I want to check in on mine. Death puts the important things into perspective -I should know."

Dean seemed like he was considering what I was saying, and I could see that he relented just by the look on his face. "Fine. But I'm taking you to the bus station and buying you a ticket." He ordered, leaving no room for negotiation. "Hitchhiking might not kill you, but it'll take you four days to even hit the Ohio border."

Okay, so maybe I jumped to conclusions with his discomfort with chivalry. I was taken aback by Dean's offer. Sunnydale was a small town, but it didn't have the stereotypical small town hospitality. People were always suspicious, probably because there was something crazy going on every Tuesday night and the high death rate probably didn't help. So, essentially, I wasn't used to favors. "You sure about that? I just came back from the dead, and I'm pretty sure my bank is gone. I won't pay you back for a while."

Dean led us back to his car. "Doesn't matter, not my money."

I looked to Sam, who had stuck back to walk with me, for answers when Dean didn't give one. Sam shook his head. "Don't ask." He said sighing. "So you remember everything?"

"Not sure what you mean by everything, but I can tell you my middle name, favorite color, and the name of my second grade teacher, if that helps." I had to crane my neck to talk to this guy. "So you two are brothers? Let me guess, you're the baby."

Sam nodded. "Dean's five years older."

I grinned. Bingo. I was right. "I get the protective vibe from him about you. I know the feeling, I have a little sister." When we came up to the car, Sam opened the door for me. I shot an appreciative look at Dean. "Good job training this one."

Once we were inside the car and pulling out of the parking lot, Sam worked his magic on his futuristic phone and figured out it was actually the Amtrak they needed to take me. Pontiac was small enough that the drive to the station was only a short car ride. When we arrived, Dean told Sam to stay behind to watch the car. At least Sam looked as confused as I was by the proposition, but he obediently stayed back.

I followed Dean to the ticket counter where he bought mea one way trip to Cleveland. Why couldn't Giles pick somewhere nicer? Would it kill a hellmouth to set up shop in Hawaii?

As he paid for the ticket, I peeked at the credit card to catch his last name. Once we were out of earshot from the ticket vender, I asked. "Siegfried Houdini? Did you steal someone's credit card?"

Dean shook his head. "You seriously think someone actually walks around with a name like that?" He walked us over to the only platform in the small station. Checking the time displayed by the platform, I could see that my train would be departing in twenty minutes. From the look on his face, I could tell he wanted to ask a question. He was quiet for a few minutes, and then he finally stirred up the nerve to ask. "Do you remember?"

"Yeah." I didn't need a clarification, I knew exactly what he was asking unlike when Sam asked. I leaned against one of the posts on the platform and crossed my arms. "I get why you're lying to them. They'd feel guilty."

"How'd you end up in Hell?" I guess he decided to no beat around the bush anymore.

"I'm pretty sure that's a third date question." Seeing his serious look, I sighed. "I'll show you mine, if you show me yours."

When the question was turned around on him, Dean frowned. Everyone had their own reasons, and getting to Hell seemed like one of the most personal reasons out there. There was also the fact that we didn't trust each other. We've spent hours together, attached by some cosmic string. We were both probably running on our old instincts, where someone who wasn't trying to kill you wasn't an enemy -yet. It was better to cut ties early before we could double cross the other one. So we weren't going to show our cards before we knew we had a winning hand.

He nodded in understanding, and tried a different tactic. "How long did it feel?" He turned his head away, avoiding my eyes. "Mine felt like forty years."

Forty years. That would have been nice. Okay, nice wasn't the best word for it. But forty years was blip on my timeline. How many times did I reach what felt like forty years down there? I kept quiet for too long, because Dean turned to me waiting for my answer. I attempted a small smile. "Longer."

My answer was vague, but not a lie. I needed to keep my mental capacity safe. Telling the truth felt like it would open a floodgate that I wouldn't be able to close later.

"You sure you want to go alone? It's also Cleveland, who the hell goes there willingly?" Dean reasoned, and I agreed with him but didn't say so. He then added, "Don't you want to call ahead? Let this Rupert guy know?"

"Well, experience tells me it's better to just show up than to call after coming back from the dead. No one believes it until they see you." I said, thinking immediately of my call to Angel after coming back from Heaven.

"Experience? Oh, you mean with me and Bobby." Dean muttered distractedly as he glanced up when the train pulled into the station. "So is Rupert a boyfriend or something?"

I didn't stand a chance in holding back my laugh. At Dean's surprised look I waved her hands. "Sorry." I tried keeping back another laughing bark. "Giles is my watcher."

"Your watcher?"

"You know, he who watches. You seem to call yours Bobby." I looked back at the train where a few people were starting to board. "Here's my ride."

"I don't know about this. It seems like a good idea to keep track of my fellow Hell fugitive."

I turned back to him and saw the serious look on his face. Even though I didn't trust him, there was something about him that told me that he was one of the genuine good guys. He's probably the kind of guy that didn't even consider negotiating with the dark side unless family or friend was at stake. I guess I can give in a little.

"I'll call you once I get a cell phone. How about that?" Dean didn't seem too thrilled with the compromise, but dug through his pockets to find a lone business card and handed it to me. Business cards? What kind of operation is he running here? I read over the card and shot him a look. "FBI Special Agent Joe Perry? What, is Dean your middle name? Joe Dean Perry?"

"It's an alias." He shrugged. "It's actually Dean Winchester."

"Like the gun?" I grinned and extended out a hand. "It's actually Buffy Summers."

Dean shook my extended hand and grinned back. "Like the season?"

Oh boy. He probably used that killer smile of his to sweet talk his way in and out of situations all day. "Exactly like the season." Letting go of his hand, I turned and stepped on the train.

I was about give my final farewell, when something nagged at the back of my brain. I considered Dean for a long moment. There was a lot on his plate right now. The apocalypse was coming and a weird angel was putting on the heavy pressure. I knew, probably better than most, what it felt like to be told the world's fate rested in my hands. I mean, I lost enough sleep over it. Thank God slayers didn't need much sleep to begin with.

But the year that I had to worry about Glory ending the world, and then finding out Dawn was the key -I nearly crumbled from the pressure. At one point, I was catatonic and barely up for a competitive game of bridge, let alone fight a hell god. Judging by Dean, he wasn't one to confide in too many people. I wouldn't be surprised to find out that only Sam and Bobby were on his list of 'good friends' -and one was his brother, so I'm not sure that counts.

Nevertheless, thinking back on that year when all those terrible things happened, I would have appreciated knowing that Dawn was the key. Maybe that way, I wouldn't have been caught off guard and running around like a chicken with its head cut off as I tried patching up the mess.

Yes. It was best to tell him.

I leaned forward conspiratorially, and thought better of it; I need my full height to talk to this guy. I gestured him to lean in instead. He was obviously suspicious, but humored me. Once he was close enough I whispered, "There's something..." I caught myself before saying 'wrong.' "Different about your brother."

Dean pulled back slightly to look me straight in the eye. After a beat he slowly asked, "Are you trying to ask me if he's single or something?"

I felt my lips tilt down. This was not going how I imagined. "No. I'm saying, there's something not exactly human about him."

"You mean the psychic stuff?" He didn't seem stunned by my theory. There was more here than I previously thought.

"Psychic? No, I mean..." I considered sugar coating it, but my train was about to leave so I really didn't have time to waffle. "Demony."

"What?" This time, his voice was biting. "How the hell would you know?"

God, I really should learn to shut up. Here I was, ready to part on good terms, but now I had an offended hunter on my hands. "It's part of being the slayer. Kinda like spidey senses." He didn't look pleased by my answer. "Look, Sam seems like a great guy. I'm sure he's probably the nicer of the Winchester brothers, so you watch over that kid like you're a dad. I get it. Trust me, I get it. But I think you should be forewarned. There's something off about him."

He mulled over what I said and gave a curt nod. Any progress we made on being friendly may have been shut down because I couldn't stop being a busy body for one second. I sighed, "I'm sorry." I felt the train lurch forward. It was if Amtrak couldn't stand the tense air between us and was taking this opportunity to rip me away from Pontiac. The train moved forward slowly and I attempted a friendly wave. "I'll let you know if I find anything, Agent Perry."

He didn't crack a smile but he didn't seem angry anymore. I stayed in my spot by the door, watching him until he was out of view. Dean did the same.


	4. No Good Deed goes Unpunished

Author Notes: I really do like writing in first person, and it's something I'm trying out for this story. But since this is a crossover, I thought it would be an interesting venture into an alternating POV. We watch each show for their main characters, so I picked a delegate from each side of the cross over. This is the only time (hopefully) that there will two consecutive narrations by the same character. So without further ado, here is part deux of Buffy's narration.

**Disclaimer: The **_**Supernatural**_** and **_**Buffy the Vampire Slayer**_** world and all characters depicted are a creation of Eric Kripke and Joss Whedon, respectively.**

**No Good Deed goes Unpunished**

By Hoshi-ni-Onegai

_Buffy POV_

Reading the ticket that Dean gave me earlier, I made my way to my seat. The train was barely a quarter full. My row was empty, so I had the option of stretching my legs to the other seat -not that I really needed the room.

My view out the window was dull. It didn't help that it was also the middle of the night, but the Midwest was notoriously flat. I tried sleeping, but I woke in a panic every time I was deep enough for sleep. I think I scared the old couple diagonally in front of me. At least when I was crazy I could still sleep peacefully, kind of like even a rabid dog got a good night's sleep.

The night was longer than I remembered and it was morning by the time we reached Toledo. After changing trains in Chicago, it was straight shot to Cleveland. Probably because this was the redeye equivalent of the Amtrak, the train wasn't that much more full than the commuter train I took from Pontiac.

Getting a handful of twenty minute naps in through the night, I wasn't exactly rested when we pulled into the Cleveland station. It was midmorning when I asked the ticket counter the way to Cleveland State. It was a walkable distance, so I wasn't kicking myself for not asking Dean for cab money. The campus wasn't very big, and asking a pair of guys on their way to their next class had me pointed in the right direction for the library.

Breaching the doors, I half expected the old Sunnydale library from my high school days to be waiting for me. Instead, it reminded me of the UCSunnydale library. There weren't very many students around, and all I saw of a librarian was the student worker behind the front checkout counter.

When I approached the counter, the female student worker gave me a practiced smile. "Hi, can I help you with something?"

"I'm looking for a Rupert Giles? A stuffy English man with a fondness for folk rock and tea?" I asked.

The girl chuckled. "Don't know about the folk rock, but Mr. Giles went up stairs to help a student get sources from the religion section for their research paper."

I pointed to the stairs. "That way right?"

"Yup. Up the steps and to the right." I heard her say as I was already stepping away from the counter.

I think I nearly ran up the stairs. The book cases were towering, metal, and stacked to the brim with dusty books. No wonder Giles works here. In the short distance I saw a male student and the back of very familiar pair of shoulders. I could hear part of their conversation thanks to my slayer ears.

"Thanks for the help, I was lost back there. I could barely tell the difference between Taoism and Buddhism." The student said.

"That's what we're here for." And that's when I heard it. The posh London accent that I found annoying, but also loved. I can't remember the amount of times I got scolded by that accent and the amount of times I've been comforted by it. "There's another book I want to get you, but it's not where it should be on the shelf. I'll be right back."

He ducked into the stacks. I took a different row, walked it to the end and turned down to where he had gone. In the middle of the long book case was the man I was looking for. The trip from Illinois was a long one, but well worth it to just even see him standing there in slacks and a buttondown. At least he wasn't sporting the tweed from when he worked at the high school. He was busy sifting through the books and climbing on the stool to reach the higher shelves.

I stepped into the row and stood about fifteen feet away from him. "Giles?"

"I'll be with you in a moment." He pulled out a book from the shelf, but suddenly froze. He slowly turned toward me and I saw his eyes visibly widen. "B-buffy?"

"Hey Giles." I said softly, afraid I would scare him off.

He nearly tripped off the stool, but caught himself on the fall down. "Buffy, is that you?" He stepped toward me.

"Guilty." I smiled at him.

Then, he did something I'm not used to. There've only been a small handful of times, but Giles pulled me into a hug. And it felt like home. I was running short on family, so Giles as my stand in father was vital in my life. And at least he didn't try to kill me like Bobby, who was radically suspicious of everything.

He pulled back from his embrace after a long minute. "How is this possible? Am I seeing things? Are you a ghost?" His eyes were getting glassy with tears, and mine were doing the same.

"It's a long story. I'll tell you later, but I'm here. Really here. Back in the flesh... again" I affirmed, and then added. "And it wasn't Willow, don't worry."

He furrowed his brows. "It couldn't have been Willow, she's..."

As his words trailed off, a pit grew in my stomach. My words caught in my throat and I had to swallow the knot down. When I finally mustered my voice, it was a little over a whisper. "What's wrong with Willow?"

Just when he was about to say something, the student he had been helping peeked into the row and called out. "Mr. Giles?"

Giles turned toward the student and nodded. "John. Yes. Sorry. I have your book right here." He walked to the student and handed the book to him. "I hope this will help you. If you have any other questions, you can ask down at the front desk."

"Thanks Mr. Giles." The student turned away and left.

Giles turned away from me for a beat, then faced me. "There are things I have to tell you. But not here." He motioned for me to follow. "Come on Buffy."

"Before we go. Can you grab any and all books on angels?" It was a curse that I could be worried about my friends and be straight back on task. I was a Slayer first, and Buffy second.

"Angels? From Christianity?" Giles quickly gathered books from the shelves, only briefly glancing at the titles before grabbing the next one. "Did you encounter one?"

"Maybe. It's part of my long story." I wasn't keen on talking about my stay in Hell within the earshot of civilians.

Giles nodded in understanding and handed me half the books; the bigger ones, I might add. He led us down the stairs and after telling the student worker at the library he needed to leave early, he led us out of the library and to his car. Seeing the tiny European contraption, I couldn't help the smile splitting across my face. "All of Sunnydale falls to ruins and you manage to save your little Citroën."

He unlocked the trunk and emptied the books into it. "After Spike crashed it, I had it fixed and put in storage in LA. It came in quiet handy post Sunnydale."

I took the passenger seat as he squeezed in behind the wheel. "Hey, I left you that giant school bus."

"Yes, but can you imagine making a cross country trip with that many teenage girls in the back? It was an endless stream of petty fights and gossip. The added slayer strength didn't help." Giles shot me a look. "I never realized how well behaved you were."

"See, I wasn't so bad." I tried giving my best charming look. "Only bad thing I did was date vampires."

Giles rolled his eyes. "If you read the Slayer handbook like you were supposed to, you would know that was within the first chapter."

I was thankful that we could fall back into our old pattern of me being obnoxious and Giles being reprimanding. It was familiar and comforting.

During the drive to Giles' apartment, I filled him on everything that happened after I was woken up by Dean. He listened to everything without interrupting. Learning from my past mistakes, I didn't leave anything out. Everything from Castiel, how Sam irked my slayer senses, and how cute Dean was, was fair game. Although, Giles didn't seem to appreciate my last comment though; it was probably too off topic for him.

By the time I finished telling him the whole story, we were settled in his living room with a cup of tea in each of our hands. Giles was quiet for a long while, no doubt mulling over my story. As he processed the information silently, I fished one of the books we grabbed from the library and started in.

Angelology? Seriously? That's a thing? As I read on, I wasn't sure what was true and what wasn't -a hazard I ran into in this profession far too frequently. From my limited interaction with Cas in his real and vessel form, I couldn't tell if he was the benevolent celestial liaison between Heaven and Earth. The second bit about him being a guiding influence, I could see. He seemed like he was steering me in a specific direction. The direction probably being the Winchester duo, but I was never one for rules.

Nearly half the book was dedicated to the various possible hierarchies of angels, with the theories depending on religion and region. There where various descriptions based on eyewitness accounts and there was a wide spectrum of how they looked, but wings were a consistent thread through them all. Trench coat, however, was not mentioned in any of them.

"How long were you in Hell?" Giles asked suddenly.

I chewed on my lip, deciding if the truth was needed here. He was already probably feeling some misplaced guilt for my being in Hell, did he need to know the harsh truth? Seeing the serious expression on his face, I had to give in. The mess I made after coming back last time didn't need a repeat performance.

"Long. Really long." I avoided his eyes. "Honestly, I lost track after about one hundred years. But it was about five centuries, give or take a few decades. I think."

"I'm sorry Buffy. I'm so, so sorry." He set his tea down and set a comforting hand on my shoulder. "If I had known, I would have done everything I could to get you out. But with everything that happened before, everyone agreed you were in Heaven. There was nowhere else you should have been. If anyone deserved to go to Heaven, it would be you."

"Maybe there's a 'no reentry' rule. Once out, you stay out." I voiced the theory that I worried was all too true.

"No, I think someone fell asleep on the job and let you slip through or something. This Castiel must be righting a wrong." He pulled his hand back. "Any torture or suffering was not because you deserved it Buffy."

"I wasn't tortured." The words slipped out before I could help it. I hadn't planned telling anyone about what happened down there. But I knew Giles' looks better than anyone, and I knew this one was one where he wasn't going to dig for more information. "The Hellmouth caved in and I fell into the pit. I kept fighting and fighting and fighting. No matter how many ubervamps, monsters, and demons I killed, there were more behind them. And I couldn't die. Nothing was a mortal wound. I couldn't rest. I couldn't sleep. I was all alone, just fighting my way through Hell.

"I think I lost my sense of self around year two hundred. I was like an animal. I think I went insane. Then I saw Dean. He was... he was torturing someone. I could hear her screams as he sliced the flesh off of that woman." I could hear my voice slightly tremble.

"I'm sure he was forced." Giles tried reasoning, but I could tell he didn't believe it.

"I don't know." I shook my head. "But he was enjoying it."

"Yet you stayed with him?"

"It's different down there. You can't hide like you can up here." I tried clarifying when Giles looked confused. "Hell is a prison, and everyone has their own crimes that sentenced them there. And it's not a secret. You can see every horrible thing these people did."

"What was Dean's crime?" He inquired tentatively, probably unsure if he should be asking me something like this.

Maybe it was a secret so personal I shouldn't be telling people, but Giles wasn't people. If anyone understood the grey area in the fight against evil, it was him.

"There are some down there, not many, that traded their way in." I said. "And Dean bought a one-way ticket to Hell."

Giles gasped. "He sold his soul."

"You can tell these people apart because they have this mark on them, like a cow brand. Whoever signs them, owns their soul." I absently flipped through the pages of the book on my lap. "And trust me, the bitch that holds his deed is not someone you want to mess with."

"What on Earth is so valuable he would sell his soul?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. I guess that's still his secret."

Giles turned to the coffee table and grabbed the book on the top. Without even fussing with the table of contents or index, he flipped to the middle and turned some pages. He stopped after a few pages and turned the book so I could see it. "There's lore of Heaven's angels going into Hell to save souls, but it's not a walk in the park. They don't just sweep in and pull souls out, they fight their way in and out."

I stared at the old engraving print in the book of an angel in Roman armor and sword in hand, pulling up a battered man from the fiery pits of Hell by his arm. I remembered the blistered handprint Cas left on my wrist, and my slayer healing fixed it up within the first day. I frowned at the Latin written underneath. All those years of research, and I never went beyond the basics of Latin. I wasn't even ready to pass Latin 101. Whatever this page said, did not deal with the basics. Hell: infernum. Soul: anima. Save: Salvum. And my eyes immediately zeroed in on angel: angelus.

I turned the book back to Giles before my memories could run away from me. "I was fighting my way through Hell, and I ended up where Dean was. Then I saw this white blinding light, which now I'm thinking was Cas. The next thing I know, I'm stateside." I close the book I was reading up on angel hierarchy and trade it for another one on the table. "I'm getting the feeling that Cas was down there for Dean, and I'm just a bonus."

"A bonus?"

"You know, like the free carwash with a purchase of a full tank of gas." I shrugged.

Giles shook his with a small smile. "For one, you get nothing free with gas now. Gas is four dollars a gallon. And for another, you're not a bonus. You're the main prize."

I smiled at him. "You have to say that, because you're my Watcher."

"Ex-Watcher, and I'm pretty sure it's in the job description to bring your ego down a few pegs not the other way around." He responded and traced the Latin words on the page of the book. "It says that an angel will save only a worthy soul from Hell. There's no word of saving any random soul that happens to be nearby."

"Okay, maybe not bonus, but I'd say I was number two on that list." I recalled the previous conversation with Cas. "Dean's supposed to end the apocalypse, remember? You know what? Good for him. I could use the break."

"But you've been tasked with protecting him." Giles pointed out and turned the pages in the book.

I shrugged. "Didn't seem like either of the Winchester brothers need protecting."

"Wait, Dean and Sam are Dean and Sam Winchester?" Giles took off his glasses per his usual habit and cleaned them with a handkerchief. "I guess it's my fault for not putting two and two together. There are only so many hunter brothers named Sam and Dean I suppose. I knew their father, John."

"Their dad? He's a hunter?"

"Yes, I ran into him while dealing with bezoar trying to take over a small town in southern Ohio." He slid his glasses back on. "John knew a great deal about different creatures, but had never run into those before."

"Bezoar? Why does that sound familiar?" It was ringing a distant bell in my head, but I've run into too long a list of monsters to keep track of them all... even though that's part of my job.

"They were in your eggs for health class, remember? For that parenting experiment?" Giles explained.

"Oh, you mean bozos? Out of all the monsters, you got a repeat of one of the grosser ones." I got the shivers from just thinking about those parasites. "So how about we call daddy Winchester and see what's going on with his boy?"

He sighed. "John died a couple years ago."

"Another good one down in battle." Our side was losing too many soldiers. Is that why they called us back? Because the scales were tipping?

"No, from what I heard, he died from injuries sustained in a car accident." He said. "I wasn't aware that his son died."

"Well, good thing they didn't let everyone know, because he's back." I absently flipped through the book and then set it aside. "Can I borrow your shower? I haven't taken one since I came back. I think I worked up a sweat rising from the dead."

"Yes, but there's something I should tell you." He set his own book to the side as well. I was afraid of how serious he looked. "It's better to tell you what's happened since Sunnydale."

I could feel the bile rising up in my throat, but I somehow kept it down. "Who died?"

"Anya died the same day you did. Everyone else made it out alive, but we've lost some people over the years." He paused seeing my reaction and whatever he saw made him continue slowly. "Angel and his team challenged the Circle of the Black Thorn a year after Sunnydale. They won the battle, but there were casualties. Gunn and Fred, two members of his team died. Wesley was killed by one of the members of the Circle. Cordelia died peacefully in a coma a few weeks before the battle."

The list was getting longer and longer. I expected one or two of us, but this many? I was terrified of Giles continuing. If I stopped him from talking, then everyone was still alive. Everything was fine. But that's not the reality of the Slayer's life. It was harsh, painful, and the only constant was loss.

I took in a steadying breath. "Angel died." It came out as an admission and not a question.

"I'm so sorry Buffy." His voice was soft. Giles hadn't been the biggest fan of Angel since what happened with Ms. Calendar, but he understood what I had with Angel was different from what I had with anyone else. I turned my eyes away from Giles. I needed to collect my nerves and didn't want him watching.

He probably figured I didn't have words to say, so he kept going. "Everything changed after you died. I tried taking the point as leader, but I'm afraid the new slayers don't take anyone that can't beat them in an arm wrestling match seriously. So Faith took the lead and although she was a reluctant leader she did well. You would have been proud of her." I feel the words bubbling forward from Giles, and there was no way to stop it. "There was an apocalypse a few years ago. We won, but Faith died saving fourteen of the younger slayers. She was a changed person. I think Angel's death affected her."

Faith. My sister slayer. We've had ups and downs. More downs, than ups, but she was the only one who really knew what it meant to be the chosen one. Well, in our case, the chosen two.

"It's been a long five years Buffy. Things of happened that no one ever anticipated." At his comment I turned back toward him, fearing what else he would say. "We thought we tipped the balance in our favor after calling all the potentials, but something has been picking them off. More than three quarters of the called slayers are dead. And there haven't been any more slayers called. The slayer line was exhausted."

"How can you be sure?" This is all my fault. Calling all the slayers stopped the First, but at what expense?

"Willow used to be able to track them." His voice was soft. "She died last year."

I shot up to my feet. I walked over to the large windows in his living room and faced away from him. This was too much. In the back of my mind, I expected everyone to be alive and well. The last time I came back, everyone was still here. The main obstacle I had was finances.

I braced myself again the window frame. My breathing was growing rapid with each inhale. Oh my God. I'm going to have a panic attack. I thought I had seen it all. Jaded by everything. But this was too much. People who got close to me die. Death is my gift.

"How did she die?" How did I kill the dorky, awkward, sweet redhead who talked to me on my first day at Sunnydale High? How did I kill my best friend?

"Cancer." My rapid breath hitched at Giles' answer. I turned toward where he still sat on the couch. "Lymphoma. She was diagnosed four months after Sunnydale. She was doing well for years, but her health started declining in the last six months of her life. I still can't believe that a Wiccan so powerful and young could be taken from us so early. Willow was... one of the greatest people I've ever had the privilege of knowing."

Cancer. Willow died of cancer? Smartest girl at Sunnydale High. The woman that brought me back from the dead. The witch that had the power to destroy the world because her soul mate was killed. She died of something so small like cancer? We worried so much about evil creatures trying to kill us, that normal human threats seemed so petty. I made the same mistake with mom, and now with Willow.

"Is there anyone else?" I asked, still facing away from Giles. He's seen me at my worst, but I still wanted to hide myself from him. "Is Dawn..." I couldn't finish my question.

"She's alive, and happy." Giles added the second part with a tone of fatherly affection. "As for anyone else, many of the potentials we gathered to fight the First are gone as well. They were the first ones targeted in the recent attacks on slayers. But everyone else is fine."

My mind immediately flashed to my dwindling number of friends. I should have been here to protect them. It's my job to protect the world and the people in it. Every death felt like a leaded weight on my shoulders.

"I need to take a shower." I numbly stated, turning away from the window.

Giles seemed surprised by my sudden change in topic but nodded. "Of course. This way." He stood and showed me to the only full bathroom in his apartment. He set out a towel and a change of clothes for me. He quickly said they belonged to Dawn, and that she kept a spare set in different people's houses. I barely registered his explanation. He left me alone to take care of my business. I blasted the water at full pressure and the heat from the water billowed steam in the modestly sized bathroom.

As the mirror started fogging up, I stared at my reflection. I looked exactly the same. I didn't look older. I was even wearing the same outfit. I even had that magic amulet Angel gave me around my neck. I came to the slight future where everything was different and slightly the same. Technology was somewhat updated and people dressed a little different. But the circle of people I trusted and loved shrunk. My job was to stay alive and protect people, and I can't even do that right. I was supposed to be a Champion for the Powers, but I think I'm the worst one yet.

I could feel the knot building in my throat and the sob that would rack through my body. There was no one in the world that took their Champion title seriously like Angel. He always had misplaced guilt about the lives that Angelus took. His main goal was redemption. God, I hope he got it.

I thought Angel's death would cause a cosmic shift, but instead I just felt empty. I was a hallowed out shell. I know this feeling, this heavy emptiness. When I killed Angel and sent him to a hell dimension, we lost our connection. There used to be a constant hum of energy between us, even when he was Angelus. When he came back, so did the hum. Even after he left for LA and we had miles between us, I always knew Angel was alive. But he wasn't coming back this time. He wasn't in a hell dimension. His soul wasn't stuck in the ether. Angel was gone.

I knew about the Shanshu prophecy, and I had secretly waited out for it. I didn't want to hurt him with our stupid tragic love story anymore, so I told him that ridiculous cookie dough analogy. I should have been with him like our days were numbered, because they always were. We were already on our second, third, or fourth chance. Now we missed it. Our window was closed.

I thought I was jaded, that nothing could really affect me anymore. But I had a small comfort in finding out that I was still human and that I could still fall apart from the overwhelming emotion. I let myself crumple to the floor and let the tears fall for Angel. I loved him. I never stopped loving him. So there wasn't a cosmic shift. The world was fine without Angel, but I wasn't.

"Angel." His named slipped out of me before a sob shook through me.


	5. The Writing on the Wall

Author Notes: You guys are really worried about Xander and Spike. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about them. Also, I wanted to warn any Bangel shippers out there, this is not a Bangel fic. On that note, this is also not a Spuffy fic. I'm sorry about the high death count on team Whedon, but there is a reason for it. I don't read the comic books, so I always kind of thought Angel had the high risk of dying after 'Not Fade Away' and Gunn too for that matter. Faith was self destructive, so it was only a matter of time before she got herself killed. And Willow, dear sweet witchy Willow. I offed her because I saw her as a cheat. I've seen her used in fanfics as a Ms. Fix-it that can solve any problem with a magical spell. With powerful angels roaming around the SPN universe, I thought Willow's powers would be too much.

In addition, I would like to apologize (again, and again) that these first few chapters may seem like a rerun of S4 of SPN, but I promise more original parts will be coming soon.

**Disclaimer: The **_**Supernatural**_** and **_**Buffy the Vampire Slayer**_** world and all characters depicted are a creation of Eric Kripke and Joss Whedon, respectively.**

**The Writing on the Wall**

By Hoshi-ni-Onegai

_Dean POV_

Something startled me awake. The scratchy rug under me was familiar, we were still at Bobby's place. I glanced around me to check my surroundings. I automatically frowned when I saw Castiel in the kitchen. So it wasn't a dream. I was back on this side of the Earth's crust.

I shoved myself up on my feet and made my way to the kitchen, only briefly making sure Sam was still asleep on the couch.

"Excellent job with the witnesses." Castiel said when I joined him, completely skipping any form of greeting.

I tried keeping my voice down, but I snapped at the cryptic angel. "You were hip to all this?"

"I was, uh, made aware." He admitted.

"Well, thanks a lot for the angelic assistance." I glared at him. "You know, I almost got my heart ripped out of my chest."

"But you didn't." He pointed out and I wanted to punch him in the face.

"I thought angels were supposed to be guardians. Fluffy wings, halos -you know, Michael Landon. Not dicks." I grumbled. I was just woken up and it had been too close of a call with the witnesses trying to kill us.

"Read the Bible. Angels are warriors of God." His tone was definite. "I'm a soldier."

"Yeah?" I was losing my patience with this guy. "Then, why didn't you fight?"

"I'm not here to perch on your shoulder. We had larger concerns." He claimed.

"Concerns?" I could feel a growl building within me. "There were people getting torn to shreds down here! And, by the way, while all this is going on, where the hell is your boss, huh, if there is a God?"

"There's a God." Castiel stated.

"I'm not convinced. Cause if there's a God, what the hell is he waiting for, huh?" I accused. "Genocide? Monsters roaming the earth? The freaking apocalypse? At what point does he lift a damn finger and help the poor bastards that are stuck down here?"

"The Lord works..." He started.

"If you say 'mysterious ways,' so help me, I will kick your ass." I glowered at him. "So, Bobby was right about the witnesses. This is some kind a sign of the apocalypse."

"As I told you last time we met." He remarked. "That's why we're here. Big things afoot."

"Do I want to know what kind of things?" Ignorance was usually bliss in these situations.

"I sincerely doubt it, but you need to know." He was insistent. He was getting me involved in this thing, whether I liked it or not. "The rising of the witnesses is one of the 66 seals."

"Okay." I attempted humor. "I'm guessing that's not a show at SeaWorld."

He ignored my attempt at humor. "Those seals are being broken by Lilith."

Then it clicked in my head, how everything was related. Me getting pulled out, the witnesses, and the impending end of the world. "She did the spell. She rose the witnesses."

Castiel nodded. "And not just here, 20 other hunters are dead."

"Of course. She picked victims that the hunters couldn't save so that they would barrel right after us." The guilt at seeing Meg was still clawing at my insides, but I didn't want to show it. I was a weathered hunter, I didn't get emotional about this kind of crap. Well, Sam did sometimes, but that's just the way he is: the guy with the feelings.

"Lilith has a certain sense of humor." Castiel seemed uncomfortable with the idea.

"Well, we put those spirits back to rest."

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. The seal was broken."

"Why break the seal anyway?"

"You think of the seals as locks on a door." He explained.

"Okay. Last one opens and..." I let him finish the thought.

"Lucifer walks free." He answered easily.

"Lucifer?" I probably sounded like I didn't believe him, which I didn't. "But I thought Lucifer was a just a story they told at demon Sunday school. There's no such thing."

"Three days ago, you thought there was no such thing as me." He pointed out seriously. "Why do you think we're here walking among you now for the first time in two thousand years?"

"To stop Lucifer."

"That's why we've arrived." Castiel replied.

"Well, bang-up job so far." I sneered. "Stellar work with the witnesses. That's nice."

"We tried. And there are other battles, other seals. Some we'll win, some we'll lose. This one we lost. Our numbers are not limited. Six of my brothers died in the field this week. You think the armies of Heaven should just follow you around? There's a bigger picture here. You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in." He finished his speech, which he said with a little too much authority and menace for my tastes. Then he added, "The Slayer didn't complain nearly as much about leaving her alone. Actually, she kept telling me to get out."

"Get out?" The hell did that mean?

"I caught her in the shower." He said matter-of-factly. "Apparently that is private moment for her."

"In the shower?" I narrowed my eyes at him. "Just as a note, it's also a private moment for me." Better to tell the guy, he seemed to lack social skills.

"I was disappointed to find her away from you after I told her specifically to keep you alive." He frowned at the memory. "She wanted me to give her a week to 'sort out her life.'" He made quotation marks with his fingers as he said the last bit.

"A week until what?"

"Until I bring her back here of course." He tilted his head at me. "She's supposed to be protecting you. Being in Cleveland is not conducive to that."

I nearly forgot about Blondie, what, with the witnesses trying to exact revenge and all. "Buffy had a witness too?"

Castiel looked at me like I was asking a ridiculous question. "No, she's the Slayer. Lilith only raised witnesses for hunters."

"Tomato, tomato right?" By the look he was shooting me, I'm guessing she's different.

"You need to read up on slayers before I bring her back." Now he was assigning me homework.

"So I have a week."

Castiel shook his head. "I'll bring her back in three days."

He came, he saw, he vanished. Again.

What was that guy's problem? He never gives greetings, and he just appears and disappears without warning. At least I had the comfort to know that he did the same to Buffy.

So there were sixty-six seals, huh? One broken, so sixty-five left to keep the big guy down stairs locked up. I heard Sam rustling behind me.

"You alright? What's wrong, Dean?" Sam came into the kitchen. I sighed. I was in way over my head.

_Buffy POV_

"What was that ruckus Buffy?" Giles asked as I stepped out of the bathroom.

I can't imagine I looked happy or rested. "Cas decided to pay me a visit while I was naked in the shower."

He raised a brow at my description. "He joined you in the shower?"

"Well, not in the shower. I was behind the curtain and he decided he needed a face to face conversation." I grumbled as I plunked back down to my spot on the couch.

"I can't imagine that ended well for him." He smiled at my misfortune.

"I got a punch in, but I don't think he really felt it." I shrugged. "I also got me a week."

"A week? For what?" He questioned while turning back to his book flipping through some pages.

"Until I have to report for duty." I leaned forward and reached down to cuff Dawn's pair of jeans. "I'm apparently being sent back to the Winchesters."

He spared me a glance. "You plan to go quietly?"

"Of course not. I have to live up to my reputation after all." I moved on the next pant cuff and frowned at the amount I was folding up. "How tall did Dawn get? These jeans are ridiculously long on me."

"I guess she's tall, I've never really thought about it." The look on his face turned fatherly. "She's quite grown up. She's woman now, but she's still a bit of a handful." He set his book aside and reached to the end table to grab the phone. "Which reminds me, I should have called her."

I quickly reached over and tugged the phone away from him. "No."

"No?" He frowned at me. "What do you mean? Don't you want to tell her?"

"Is she happy?" I asked my own question.

He seemed ready to deny it, but sighed and nodded. "Yes. She's happy." A fatherly smile tugged on his lips. "She's actually married now."

The revelation took me by surprise. Married? The last time I saw her, she was seventeen and barely able to handle a crush with a boy from school. Now, she's twenty-two and married? "Then leave her alone. She doesn't need the emotional roller coaster of an ex-dead sister."

"You're going to hide from her? For the rest of your life?"

I shrugged. "I have a tendency to get myself killed. By the time all this is over, I might be six feet under the ground again."

"I don't think that's wise, Buffy." He pushed on. "How would you feel if you found out your mother was back and you weren't told?"

I knew he was giving a hypothetical situation to talk me into telling Dawn, but I felt a stab of familiar pain at hearing about my mom. I stood my ground. "Don't tell her. Don't tell anyone. Not Dawn. Not Xander. Not Spike."

Giles didn't seem happy with me but gave a stiff nod. "Dawn could be a huge asset for you. She studied Classics at Oxford."

"Wait, Oxford? As in England?"

"Yes, my alma mater... although I never did graduate." He admitted. "Anyways, she is currently living in London working at an antique bookstore. We've always had a sad collection of books on this side of the pond. Dawn has been extremely helpful with her position in the Old World."

That sounded like her. The girl that never wanted to be on the sidelines. She didn't have the gift Willow had with magic, so she was always researching the night away. By the end, she was better at ancient languages than I was -which wasn't saying much, but she had an ear for languages. I smiled, "She must have found a nice guy in England who loves dusty books as much as she does."

"Actually..." He started carefully. I could tell he was going to drop a new bomb. "She exported a domestic boy with her."

"Domestic? She met someone before college?"

"Kind of." He fidgeted slightly, again taking his glasses off to clean them.

I rolled my eyes. "Spit it out already. It can't be that bad."

"Dawn married Xander." Giles said out in rush.

I could feel my eyes widen. "What?" I don't know if I sounded shocked or angry.

"She moved to England alone, to attend Oxford. There used to be some demonic energy there, but it's expanded since then. During her second year, there was a situation where she needed help. Xander was the only one available at the time, so he went. He ended up staying in England permanently." He continued on. "They were never clear about when they started seeing each other -not that I really want to know."

"They started going out sometime between four and three years ago and they're already married?" I couldn't help the escalating volume of my voice.

"They were engaged for only a month before they married. Xander wanted to wait until Dawn graduated from school, but Dawn didn't want to wait." He explained.

I shook my head. "That sounds like her. Impatient. Always wanting to do everything her way and grow up fast to catch up to me."

"Willow was getting worse, the doctors didn't think she had much time." Giles gave a sad smile and shook his head. "Dawn didn't want to wait so they could have Willow at the wedding."

"I feel like an ass now." I replied quietly.

"A lot has happened. It's a lot to process." He was acting the way he did near the end, when my mom was gone and I felt like I had to be responsible for everything. He was making excuses for me, but I didn't deserve it. "Things are different now."

"I get it. It's okay. I'm not a fragile teenager that needs the world revolving around me." I stood up, I felt stir crazy. I could feel his eyes on me as I paced the room, stopping every so often to look at a random relic. I recognized a lot of the books and even some of the objects. This new apartment was looking eerily familiar. It looked like his Sunnydale apartment was transplanted to Cleveland with a new floor plan. "If Faith's gone, who's watching this Hellmouth?"

"There are three slayers within a five-mile radius of the seal." Giles answered.

"Only three? You still have a few hundred slayers at your beck and call," I turned and raised a brow. "And you have three protecting the Hellmouth?"

"It's only one of the Hellmouths. Sunnydale was the largest, and this is smaller but still quite large in comparison to the others." He corrected. "But after the attacks on slayers, we decided to spread our fighters thin. We used to have the slayers concentrated in strategic areas around the globe."

"There was a simultaneous attack."

His eyes widened a fraction, but after a beat he smiled sadly and nodded. "You were always the leader we needed." He faced away from me, pretending to be distracted but I knew better. He was remembering when I was collectively kicked out of my own house. I kept quiet though and let Giles finish. "All the slayers are spread out now. There are never more than three in one city, and they don't know who the others are. We keep their identities hidden. They only check in when absolutely necessary."

"So everyone's a loner huh?" I glanced out the windows and watched the grey sky. "I thought after all the slayers were called, it would be like a club. Kinda like Girl Scouts. Camping trips and merit badges. Instead, I just sentenced hundreds of girls to violent deaths."

"Buffy, you changed the world. Although I can't know for sure the counterfactual, but I think it was changed for the better." Giles tried to comfort me.

I frowned. "The counter what?"

"The counterfactual, it's used in political theory when talking about what didn't happen. So, we don't know what the world would be like now if you hadn't called all the slayers." He was explaining something that I'm sure he's worked out a hundred times in his head, but I didn't know the full extent of the consequences of my actions yet. "I don't know if we defeated the First because we had a full arsenal of slayers or the amulet -which I see you're still wearing."

I glanced down at the ridiculous bauble. "I died and came back with it. I get this feeling that I'm supposed to hang onto the thing."

"What if it starts working again and sinks us into Hell?" He pointed out.

"I never thought of that..." I considered taking it off, but shrugged after careful thought. "I think I'm going to keep it on. It dusted every vamp in sight last time. Something like that could come in really handy."

I could tell that Giles came to some kind of realization at what I just said. He sat forward on his seat. "Vampires are... different now."

"Different? How? They're snappier dressers and smarter?" I leaned against the wall next to the window.

"Well, in a way, but mostly their weaknesses." He clarified. "Sunlight causes severe sunburn, but doesn't kill them. A stake to the heart doesn't work anymore and neither does setting them on fire. Holy water, crosses, and garlic have no effect."

"So they're invulnerable supervamps now?" I groaned. "Are they ugly looking like ubervamps? Because that's what they're sounding like."

Giles shook his head. "No, they look like regular vampires but they no longer protrude ridges when feeding."

"What happened to the old fashioned vampires? Phased out by the new model?" I was specifically thinking about one vampire, but didn't bring it up.

"They're still around, but they're an endangered species -in a manner speaking." He then admitted, "We don't know where these new types of vampires came from. But they're the least of our worries."

"You have bigger problems?"

"A Hellmouth in Wyoming was opened, albeit temporarily, but demons escaped Hell." He stood up and went over to the bookcase and pulled out an old tome. Flipping through the pages, he approached me and handed me the book. A lot of words in Latin covered the page and a simple drawing of a human man. At closer inspection, I saw that the man's eyes were blacked out -without none of the white of the eye showing. "I believe they're what's been murdering the slayers."

"I don't get it. You're keeping slayers' names secret so they can't be found, but you're listed. You're still going by your own name." I peered up at him. "If everyone is going into the slayer witness protection program, why aren't you?"

"So lost slayers can find me." Giles gave a small smile. "And I'm glad it led you to find me. We missed you dearly Buffy."

I handed the book back. "Well, here's Buffy Summers, back on duty."

He shook his head. "You were missed as a warrior, but I missed you more as a surrogate daughter."

I stood frozen. I wasn't used to Giles expressing his feelings -he was British after all. And I honestly didn't know if I liked it. The memories of my last days in Sunnydale weren't fresh, but still painful. I went through a mutiny led by the Scoobies, and Giles hadn't stepped in to defend me. After years of service and making the impossible decisions to keep everyone alive, and they turned on me. And when the going got tough and Faith was ambushed, they expected me to step in and take point again. I never got that apology, or even an admission they were wrong. Then again, maybe they weren't wrong.

But I wasn't ready to go down that road with him -if ever. I steered my thoughts to another pertinent topic. "Is Spike in England?"

Giles looked visibly surprised by my question. Maybe he didn't expect me to know, or maybe didn't expect me to avoid his rare show of paternal affection. "Yes, he's been based in London since Dawn left for school."

"Figured. Told him to watch Dawnie." I smiled and nodded. "Spike may be a lot of things, but he's a man of his word. Or better said, vampire of his word."

"Actually..." He began. "Spike is..."

"You said everyone else was fine. Spike is fine right?" I could hear a slight panic rise in my voice. "He's alive, right?"

"More than you might think." I couldn't read the look he had on his face. "Do you know what the Shanshu Prophecy is?"

No. It couldn't be. This can't be happening. Emotions were bubbling up, but I trampled it down before saying anything. "Yeah. Souled vamp getting to be a real boy again." I attempted humor but I know my tone wasn't exactly upbeat.

"Everyone believed the prophecy was for Angel, and I believe it was, but it appears the prophecy moved on to the next available candidate." He explained. "Spike became a true warrior for the Powers after you died, and even more so when Angel did."

"Yeah." I answered dumbly, turning toward the window again. "He always acted like he hated Angel, but Spike looked up to him. Grand sire and all."

"He turned human about year and a half ago." Giles said evenly. "I was there when it happened. It was various unceremonious. One minute we were fighting the big evil and the next minute Spike kills it and he takes in a gasping breath. He said his heartbeat started right after that. It lacked the pomp and circumstance we expected."

"That's the Powers. Low-key and doling out destinies." I kept staring out the window, I didn't want Giles to see how much this news affected me. I should be happy for Spike, ecstatic. But I wasn't. I didn't think he deserved it. He's been trying to be good for a handful of years. Angel's guilt tortured him for over a hundred years. I can't think much changed after I was gone. Angel spent every waking moment worried about his soul and redemption. And in the end, the Powers didn't even let him have that.

"Are you okay, Buffy?" Giles asked after a long silence.

"Yeah." I nodded but still faced away from him, hiding the tears I could feel welling up in my eyes. "Apparently it's been a busy five years."


	6. Family that Prays Together

Author Notes: My main goal with this story is stay in character. I always loved the way Buffy and Dean speak, so I've tried keeping true to it. As to if I'm successful is really to your judgment. Also, on the Dawn-Xander pairing. I think it is super left field, but apparently that's how the comics go. I haven't read them, but I've caught wind that these two get together. I know, whoa. But I figured I'll keep with the convention.

Thank you for all the reviews and reading of my random little fic. The Dean and Buffy in my head thank you as I throw them into this mess.

**Disclaimer: The **_**Supernatural**_** and **_**Buffy the Vampire Slayer**_** world and all characters depicted are a creation of Eric Kripke and Joss Whedon, respectively.**

**Family that Prays Together**

By Hoshi-ni-Onegai

_Dean POV_

"Are you sure it's Summers?" Sam asked while staring at his computer screen in frustration.

I took my eyes away from the TV for a second and nodded. "Yeah. We had an exchange about it." I frowned at Sam's furrowed brows. "Why? Is she not coming up?"

"She's coming up, but not for anything I expected." He turned the computer screen so I could see it. "Look at this."

I stood up and approached the table to take the other seat. We were in our typical rundown motel, only this time it was decked out in Oktoberfest propaganda. I glimpsed at the laptop screen and shrugged. "It's her obituary. There's no news there. She's my buddy from the grave, she's bound to have an obituary somewhere."

"Yeah, but look at the date." He tilted his chin at the screen.

I scanned the page and froze when I stumbled on the date. May 22, 2001. What? That means... Oh God.

"This has to be wrong right?" Sam asked. "Maybe she gave you an alias."

Sam's explanation made a lot more sense than what he was finding. Seven years down in the pit? If four months felt like forty years what did seven years feel like? I shook the idea off. Sam had to be right. Blondie probably gave me a fake name.

"Forget her name then, how about slayers? What are they?" I asked instead.

"Didn't Bobby clear that up?... Kind of?" He turned the laptop back to him and started typing.

"Well, Bobby didn't know much more than that slayers are chosen mythical warriors." I rattled off the description, which really didn't help much. I wasn't really clear on the condition of 'being chosen.' Who does the choosing anyways?

"There's some lore..." Sam's eyes scanned the screen. "'Into every generation a slayer is born: one girl in all the world, a chosen one. She alone will wield the strength and skill to fight the vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness; to stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their number. She is the Slayer.'"

"That sounds familiar. I think Blondie spewed that out." I grabbed the bag of chips I bought at the gas station across the street and pried it open. "Anything else? Origin stories? How the girl gets picked, who chooses?"

"Not really." He kept his eyes on the screen. "Something about a Watcher's Council."

"Blondie mentioned a watcher."

"Mythical supersoldiers need someone to watch them?" Sam shot me a look, and then turned back to the screen. "There are some names of past slayers, and some of the bad guys they've killed. But not much else."

"So there's not a roster of who's up at bat?" I sighed. "I guess that's asking for too much."

"Castiel and Buffy both confirmed she's the Slayer. What more do you want?" He took a sip of the water sitting next to his computer.

"Sorry if I'm not all trusting of the weird dude in the trench coat." I offered the bag of chips to Sam, but he just shook his head. "Maybe someone at the Roadhouse knows more."

"We could swing by next time we're that way." He suggested.

"Or we could call." Really, Sam always trying make things complicated.

Then something weird happened. I mean, it was weird even for our standard. My phone rang at that precise moment.

Sam and I shared a look while I reached into my shirt pocket for my phone. I glanced at the screen, it looked like a local number. Maybe it was the cop we talked to today.

"Agent Young." I greeted just in case.

"Uh..." A female voice started. "Dean?"

"Yeah?" I waited for whoever it was to say something, but she kept quiet. "Who's this?"

"Oh, sorry. A little disoriented." She said quickly. "It's Buffy. I'm... somewhere. I'm hoping you're nearby."

I forgot I gave her my number. "You're in Cleveland right? We're kinda close." I glanced over at Sam who was paying close attention to our conversation. "You in trouble?"

"Me, no. But a certain angel will be on the receiving end of my foot up his ass the next time I see him." She sounded pissed. "Anyways, I'm at a motel. A Penn's Inn?"

"Penn's Inn?" Sam raised a brow, but kept quiet. "Does it have a neon sign with two burnt out Ns?"

There was a brief pause, and then she sounded surprised. "How'd you know?"

"Room 118."

"Seriously?" She gave a short laugh. "Huh, I should fly Cas Airlines all the time. Hold on, I'm going to hang up. See you in a bit." Hearing the click on the other line, I hung up my cell.

"What's going on?" Sam asked.

"Blondie's here." I got up from my seat.

"Here? What do you mean here?" He asked, but was distracted by a knock at the door.

Opening the door, I was met with an amused Blondie. She smirked at seeing me and noticed Sam at the table. "Hey boys. Missed me?"

She swept past me and swung the medium sized canvas duffle bag off her shoulders and dropped it at the foot of the bed. Plopping down on the bed, she stretched her arms up she leaned backward and then forward. I could hear her spine pop.

"Holy crap that feels good." She reached forward and started tugging off her boots.

"Come on in, make yourself at home." I said sarcastically and swung the door shut.

She shot me a look and tugged off the second boot at the same time. "Cut me some slack, I've been on my feet for the past three days."

"Doing what?" Sam turned away from his computer.

"Walking for some of it and hitchhiking for the rest of it." She wiggled her toes, which caused her joints there to pop as well. "I think I'll need to borrow your shower."

"What did I tell you about hitchhiking?" Did I say that out loud? I sound like a mother hen. "You didn't make it to Cleveland with the train ticket I got you?"

"No, I made it." She admitted. "I just have to see a man about a horse in Wyoming."

"And you ended up in Pennsylvania?" I sat back in the chair again, but turned it to face our new guest. "You need to improve your sense of direction."

Her eyes widened. "Pennsylvania?" She gritted her teeth. "I'm going to kill Cas the next time I see him."

"You think you can kill an angel?" Sam asked dubiously.

"I've fought worse. A puny angel will be a walk in the park." She griped.

"So Pennsylvania, how'd you get here?" I asked, it seemed she got easily sidetracked.

"Oh, that. Well, I was walking along the state highway trying to catch a ride when Cas scares the crap out of me by appearing right in front of me." She pulled off the sweater she was wearing, revealing a tank top. "And he was all business. It was all, 'no Buffy, you can't have a few more days.' Then poof, he zapped me over here all the way from Illinois without much warning."

"Is that why you're two days late?"

"Late?" She frowned at me. "I'm two days early."

"Cas said he was bringing you back in three days." I said.

"No wonder he showed up." She peeled off her socks. "I sent him packing, but this time he was determined." She glanced over at Sam whispered loudly. "I think he got in trouble with his boss."

Sam laughed. "Who? God?" She just shrugged in response.

"How the hell did you talk him into anything? He's all doom, gloom, and not budging on anything with me." I asked.

She smirked up at me. "Well, I'm cute."

I shot her a glare and looked over to Sam. "I'm definitely cuter than her."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm not legitimizing your question with an actual answer."

"Anyways, I'm not about to let that angel get the upper hand." She stood up and took her discarded clothes in hand. "I'm borrowing your shower, and then I'm on the road again. Maybe I'll make it all the way to Wyoming before Cas turns me back this time."

"I would advise against that." We all whipped our head toward the angel who stood creepily in the corner.

"Speak of the devil." I mumbled.

Castiel frowned. "I'm not the devil."

"Never mind." I interrupted before he could go on the weird defensive. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard the Slayer's plan. I intend to keep her at your side." He said evenly.

"You're listening in now?" She accused.

"I've been standing here for a few seconds now." Castiel studied her. "Your skills have dulled, Slayer."

"Well, being dead will do that to you." She glared at him. "And it's Buffy."

"Buffy." He repeated. "You need to train."

"Yeah, let me squeeze that in between fighting the apocalypse and kicking your ass." She stomped toward him.

Sam stood up and tried stepping between her and Castiel. "Whoa, hold it right there. I'm not about to let you two trash the room."

She wasn't really helping the situation by standing her ground and glaring at Castiel. He, on the other hand, just shrugged. "I have no quarrel with the Slayer... I mean, Buffy."

"Then let me go. You can't put the opposite of a restraining order on me with these two." She waved her arms at us. "I'm under Winchester house arrest!"

"Well, don't go gushing about us or anything." I inserted, which only earned me a look from Sam.

Castiel had that look in his eyes, the same one he had when he threatened to throw me back into Hell. He towered over her, which wasn't exactly a feat. "You were brought back for the sole purpose to keep the Winchesters alive. Our mission was to save Dean, you were convenient."

Then, as usual, he disappeared without warning. Sam seemed surprised by Castiel's vanishing act, but she stood still. She had a look on her face, close to what a kicked puppy would look like.

I slowly approached her. "You okay there? He's a dick to me too, so I wouldn't take it personally."

"I knew it, I'm a candy bar." She whispered out.

I wasn't really sure I heard correctly. "What?"

"I'm a candy bar." She said more clearly, looking up at me.

"Are you going through an existential crisis?" I glanced at Sam who was just as confused as I was.

"I'm a candy bar you grab at the checkout while you're at the store. You really go for the milk, eggs, and bread, but that candy bar was just sitting there staring at you. So at the last minute you throw it on the conveyer belt and take it home with you." She searched my face for something. "You're bread. I'm a candy bar."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, he threatened to throw the loaf of bread back into the oven." I offered.

"I think the metaphor would be better if you said that you were getting put back on the self." Sam corrected.

I shot him a look. "Can you be more of a dork?"

"So, I guess I'm stuck with you guys." She sighed and walked over to the bed to plop down again.

"We're not so bad." I said. "It's never boring."

"Oh, don't really need the added excitement in my life." She chewed on her lip a bit, then added. "How about I make you two a deal?"

"You're making it sound like we're keeping you hostage." Sam jested.

"Okay, poor choice of words." She looked at Sam, then at me. "You take me to Wyoming, let me do my thing, then I'm all yours."

Sam glanced at me. "We're probably eventually headed that way anyways."

I though her offer over, not that she really had a say in what was going on -seemed like Castiel had a monopoly on that. "Counter offer." She raised a brow at me. "You tell us your real name."

"What?" She frowned. "Pretty sure we already covered that."

"We tried looking you up, but the only thing we got was a girl in California." Sam went over to his computer and turned the screen toward her. "And this girl is dead."

"I don't see how I don't fit the description. I'm a California girl: born, raised, and killed." She scooted over to look at the laptop. Her eyes scanned the page. "Oh, is it the date? Because that's when I died the second time. There wasn't really a town to report this time around, so I might not have another obit."

"Second time?" I repeated as question.

"What, like you guys haven't died at least once." She rolled her eyes.

"Once." Sam admitted.

I frowned. "One and a half?"

Sam looked at me. "Half?"

"I wasn't sure if I should count the time in the hospital with dad." I remarked.

"That's a good question." Sam furrowed his brows, but after a beat he looked at Buffy. "What do you mean there wasn't a town."

"I was in this town called Sunnydale, but I'm pretty it's not on the map anymore." She explained. "It was barely on the map before."

My eyes widened. "Wait, you were there when Sunnydale got swallowed up by a sink hole?"

"There? I was the one who caused it." She smirked. "And it was less of a sink hole and more of a closing a doorway to Hell."

"You fell in." I said out loud as I realized what happened, even though I didn't mean to voice my thoughts.

Sam shook his head. "But wasn't that in 2004?"

"2003." She corrected.

"You were down there for five years?" He said disbelievingly. "Do you remember anything? Because Dean doesn't."

"Sorry. Must be a Hell thing." She went along with my lie. "Probably better that way."

I tried changing the dangerous topic. "So did you see your family and friends?"

"I saw Giles, but I didn't stay long. Everyone is spread apart now, and I didn't want to bug them just in case this round isn't very long." She said nonchalantly. "So what are you two doing in Pennsylvania?"

Her sudden change of topic told me that there were things she wanted to keep hidden, which was fine by me.

"We heard about a vampire attack, but it was a bust." Sam said.

"You came here because of one vampire attack?" She scooted up to sit forward. "Are you running around the country trying to put out small fires all the time?"

I raised a brow. "As opposed to what? Sitting in one place waiting for weird stuff to happen?"

"Worked for me." She shrugged. "So what's the sitch? New vamp picked up a small snack but accidently tripped and fell on a stake?"

"Stakes don't kill vampires." Sam corrected. "We saw the victim at the morgue, but there were only two puncture wounds on the neck -like someone stabbed her with a barbeque fork."

"Sounds like the garden variety vamp." She said, but then added. "Well, the old garden variety. Heirloom vamps. Non-genetically modified."

Is it just me, or does this girl speak in a weird code? Sam and I shared a glance, telling me he felt the same. He turned back to Buffy. "We talked to the guy who saw the attack, and he's off his rocker."

"Can't be that weird." She offered.

"He said Dracula attacked the girl." Sam scoffed.

She was quiet for a moment, probably taking in the ridiculousness of the situation. I've been hunting since I was a kid, and I think the idea of Dracula is bizarre.

But then, she said something that topped the weirdness of the situation. "He's here?"

I could see Sam's eyes visibly widen. "Wait, are you serious?"

"Oh, I had the same reaction you did the first time I met the guy. Not sure about the boogeyman, but Dracula? He's real." She seemed pretty confident with what she was saying, but all I heard was a crazy lady.

"Okay..." I drawled out while trading glances with Sam. "We're out of here tomorrow morning anyways. Not much for us to do."

She rolled her eyes. "You drive cross country for this thing, and you're flaking out because the monster shows up in movies?"

"Can you blame us?" Sam said.

"You think it's ridiculous because he's the guy that sold out. Who the hell is going to believe in Dracula if there are books and movies on the guy, right? It's like the ultimate cover story." She reasoned. "All myths have some basis in fact."

"Yeah, and next you're going to tell me that Angelus the Scourge of Europe and William the Bloody are real." I joked.

Buffy visibly went rigid at my comment. After a moment she avoided looking at either of us and tried to answer casually. "They're real, but that's not the main story right now."

"Right, Dracula." Sam mocked.

"Hey, you're the guys that came running after one little vampire bite." She pointed out. "Also, Pennsylvania sounds a little like Transylvania -so that has to count for something."

Sam sighed and looked over to me. "I'm getting the feeling Buffy's not going to let this go."

I groaned. "Fine, we can go back to the morgue in the morning and you can check the body out. If your expert opinion says vampire, we'll hunt your celebrity vampire."

I could tell she wasn't exactly happy with the way I phrased my offer, but agreed. She announced she was going to take a shower. Yup, announced, not asked. She disappeared into the bathroom for a long while. Sam and I had a chance to talk -mostly about how weird the new girl was. The new girl pulled out the fold-out cot from the closet after her shower and crashed before I had a chance to offer the bed. Oh well, she's tiny. She'll find that thing more comfortable than I ever will. Either way, the universe was bent on disturbing my sleep.

My phone rang sometime after six in the morning. The screen flashed a local number. I tried to remember if I lost track of another buddy from my prison break from Hell. "Hello?" I grumbled with sleep still in my voice.

The local cop, Sheriff Dietrich, I met yesterday was on the other line, telling me about another weird killing. This time, it was some kind of animal attack. Apparently, a witness kept on saying it was a wolf-man; which meant that it was in our fake paranormal FBI jurisdiction.

The call woke up Sam and Blondie. After regrouping, Sam and I went off to check on the body. I assigned Buffy to her own assignment, which she complained about for a good twenty minutes. She was even going on about it as Sam and I left the room to head into town to question the witness. The interview with the girl wasn't much help. The girl was busy guzzling down a big gulp to actually give us any useful information. She was, however, convinced it was a werewolf. Maybe she was in shock.

Later, we headed over the morgue. The body of the victim was torn to shreds, but it wasn't a werewolf. The heart was still in there and the guy was torn limb from limb, which made this a different breed of monster. A monster that pokes holes in people's necks and rips people apart by their arms and legs, which was not any specific M.O. I've ever heard of. The sheriff said they found wolf hair at the scene, which was confusing us more than before.

Getting hungry for lunch, I convinced Sam to head to the beer garden. When we took our seats, I sighed. "I don't know, man. Looks like we've stumbled on to a midnight showing of 'Dracula meets wolf man.' Is that it?"

"I don't know. I mean, wolf man seems real enough." Sam said. "It makes Dracula seem a little less impossible, I guess."

"Yeah, but werewolves don't grow wolf hair." I leaned forward. "That's just a myth."

"Yeah."

"So, what?" I sat back in my seat. "We've got a vampire and a werewolf monster mashing this town?"

"Sounds like a regular Tuesday night to me." A female voice suddenly interrupted. Buffy came up to our table and loudly banged two large steins of beer in front of us. "And I hate you guys."

I smirked and gave her a slow once over. The high-heeled mary jane's, thigh-high white socks, the short poofy skirt, bar wench staple corset, with matching frilly apron and top. She made the costume her own and added the braided pigtails -which gave it a slightly cheesy authentic touch.

"You look good." I complimented.

I was on the receiving end of a death glare. "Next time, you wear the lederhosen and I'll be the one in the suit."

"Come on, get in the spirit." I smirked at her. "It's Oktoberfest."

"Beer, sausage, and frilly bar wench outfits do not an Oktoberfest make." She pulled out a pad and pen, and started writing something down. "So any new developments?"

"There was a possible werewolf attack, but turned out to be something else." Sam answered.

"Different how?" She asked while scribbling some more.

"The heart was intact." He explained.

She glanced up from her pad and frowned. "Let me guess, werewolves are different with you guys too? God, were the baddies splicing genes while I was gone?" She shoved the pad into her apron pocket. "Well, from what I found out in my ridiculous undercover work is that Carol doesn't like Jessica which is unfortunate because Jessica thinks the world of Carol. Sarah has a date tonight with a guy and she has no idea what to wear. Oh, and Lucy creeps me out."

"Lucy?" I glanced over to the bar. "Which one's that?"

"The curly haired brunette." She then whispered. "Aside from getting the wiggins from her, she also has an unhealthy obsession with Jaime."

"Jaime?" All these names and I can barely keep them straight.

Buffy rolled her eyes at me. "The one you were hitting on yesterday. The really pretty blonde?"

Sam laughed. "How'd you know about that?"

She sighed. "Girls talk. Sometimes, too much." She stepped away from our table. "I'll put in your food order before they think Dean's moved on to me."

I shot her a look. "You didn't take our order."

"I'm bringing you food and you're going to like it." She told me off, and then left.

"Well, isn't she just the sweetest." I said sarcastically to Sam.

His look was admonishing. "You forced her to get a job as a barmaid at the height of Oktoberfest. She's probably getting hit on and groped by every other drunk customer."

"She's fine. It's not like we could have her tag along with us." I reasoned. Either way, I wasn't worried about Blondie, she could hold her own. If she's really the Slayer, she can handle a few grabby drunks.

Sam took a sip of his beer and changed the topic. "So what are we hunting here? Anything in dad's book about a vampire werewolf?"

"Not that I ever came across." I said. "Maybe Buffy's right. Maybe this is Dracula."

"And he has wolf hair?" He was rightly skeptical.

"If Dracula is real, then I can believe he has werewolf henchmen." A thought occurred to me and I grinned. "Hey, you think this Dracula could turn into a bat? That would be cool."

"Or really inconvenient." Sam replied distracted by Buffy's return with two plates. She set down a burger and fries for Sam and a house salad for me. Sam smirked at my selection. "That was fast."

She shrugged. "I just grabbed two plates that were ready."

"You could get fired for that." He said half laughing.

"Yeah, because I want to get a gold star in bar wenchery so that I get a glittering recommendation for my next gig." She then glanced toward the bar where our waitress from yesterday was watching us and filling a few steins of beer. "Sam, give me your hand."

Sam raised a brow at the odd request, but extended his hand to her. "What's going on?"

"Smile like you really like me." She mumbled while fishing out her pen and reaching for his hand. She gave Sam a smile that would have had me following her to the closest dark corner for little more than a make out session. "Jaime was getting jealous. She thinks I'm moving in on FBI Agent Young who's sweeping into town. So I told him, I'm interested in the cute one." She scribbled something on his palm. "So, if anyone asks. You, the Christian Scientist Agent Angus, is getting the most coveted phone number from me, bar wench Anne."

"Anne?" Sam asked once he got his hand back. "And is this your real cell number?"

"No, I don't have a cell. Figured payphones will serve me well." She shrugged. "And Anne is an old fall back alias."

"I'll get you a cell. A burner at least." I said while switching my plate with Sam's. "If you go running off, I'll need a way to contact you to ask about Frankenstein if he ever shows up."

She laughed. "Sorry, never met the guy."

"Frankenstein is the doctor, not the monster." Sam corrected, which earned him a look from the both of us.

"Anyways, I had a thought about your monster." She started. "Dracula can shape shift, I've seen him turn into a bat. So who's to say he can't turn into a wolf right?"

I gave a giddy grin to Sam, who furrowed his brows at the new information. "And he tore a guy limb from limb?" Of course party pooper Sam wasn't going to let me enjoy the awesome fact that Dracula turned into a bat.

"A werewolf can't do that. They're strong, but not that strong." She chewed on her bottom lip as she looked like she was thinking it over. "And not sure if an old school vampire could do that either."

"I guess we're back to square one." I said distractedly as I glanced at the bar. I tilted my head toward the glaring bar wench. "I think you better head back before you get fired."

Buffy sighed. "I honestly never thought I'd be back in food service again." She walked away faking an enthusiastic grin.

"What do you expect her to find out? She's not going to figure out any more than typical gossip." Sam says after she was out of earshot.

"That's half of the work we usually have to do, done for us." I bit into the burger I commandeered. It tasted surprisingly good for tourist trap grub.


	7. Cradle to Grave

Author Notes: Anyone who knows me well knows that I love a good pun. I really wanted to title this chapter "Digging your own Grave," but I stopped myself. Anyways, let's move onto the next installment of Dean+Buffy's adventure.

**Disclaimer: The **_**Supernatural**_** and **_**Buffy the Vampire Slayer**_** world and all characters depicted are a creation of Eric Kripke and Joss Whedon, respectively.**

**Cradle to Grave**

By Hoshi-ni-Onegai

_Buffy POV_

"Anne!" I winced at the amount of gusto this girl put behind my alias.

I plastered on my best smile and turned around from the empty plates I returned from the table of five. "What's up Jaime?"

"I got you a date!" She squealed.

I raised a brow. "You lost me."

"We're going on a double date tonight." Her voice dialed down -which I was thankful for. "No need to thank me, I may have just gotten you laid."

I raised a brow, didn't realize I needed help. "Why are we going on a double? You could totally just single it out and have fun with the short one."

"He's not short." Jaime laughed. "And I don't care if he's FBI, he might be a complete weirdo. I rather have backup."

"I'm all of five foot three and one hundred and ten pounds, I'm not much back up." I mean, she didn't need to know the real truth.

"Hey, I've seen you carry twice as many beers than any other girl here." She pointed out.

I shrugged. "I didn't want to take multiple trips. That just makes me lazy."

"Come on, it'll be fun. Two hot murder-solving FBI agents, how often does that roll into town?" She persuaded me with a grin that shook me. It was one that I had seen Willow use when she wanted to talk me into something.

I sighed in defeat. "I still get the cute one right?"

"Definitely." She backed up to head to the bar. "Midnight, tonight."

I nodded and waved her away. Jaime reminded me of the girls I was friends with back in Hemery High. We probably would have been really good friends, but I had more important things to worry about. The latest apocalypse being one of them. When I went to go serve the table next to where Dean and Sam were, I shot them a glare. Sam looked apologetic. Dean looked smug. How the hell did I end up becoming someone's wingman?

Seven exhausting hours later, midnight rolled around and Jaime was practically tugging me out the door. I think she fully expected the brothers to be waiting, but instead we stood around for good fifteen minutes.

"Maybe we're getting stood up." I suggested. I have no idea how she has the energy for a date after being on her feet all day. All I wanted to do was crash on the cot back in the Winchester's hotel room. Sure, I wasn't going to get any sleep -same as last night- but at least I'd be off my feet.

"No way." She glanced at her watch. "Two good looking blondes, what g-man is going to pass that up?"

"Maybe they solved the case and skipped town and forgot about us." I offered.

She frowned at me. "I don't know what you're complaining about. You were all flirty with the other guy, giving out your number and everything."

"Not my real number." I shrugged. "I figured he needed an ego boost after the way you were drooling all over the Ken doll."

Jaime smiled shaking her head. "I was not drooling, and if I was -can you blame me?"

"Hence the reason why I needed to give Agent Angus my precious fake number. You were about to give the guy an inferiority complex." That's when I felt a strange sensation at the back of my neck, something was coming. I turned to look down the street, ready to face another monster that I needed to fight off. Instead, there in the dark streets stood... a weirdo.

"Good evening." The accent was exaggerated Hungarian. The guy was in full on Halloween vampire costume. I guess he decided to skip ahead a few weeks.

"Friend of yours?" I asked while I glanced over to Jaime who looked petrified. I guess not.

"I have watched you many nights from afar. My passions know no bounds. You are the reincarnation of my beloved," he spouts out in his ridiculous accent. "And I must have you."

I scrunched my face. "Ugh. That vampire cliché is really getting old. Watching people is super creepy, and I'm really not interested."

"Not you." He bit out and proceeded to ignore me. He swept his shiny polyester cape over his shoulders and extended a hand out to Jaime. "You, my darling. Come with me."

"Sorry buddy, but it's kinda my job to save damsels in distress." I reached into my jacket and whipped out Mr. Pointy, my companion from Hell and back.

He approached us, completely disregarding me and my very threatening sharpened stick. Maybe I should really rethink my weapon choice. As I readied my stake, Jaime rummaged through her purse and pulled out pepper spray. She went to town on his face when he approached.

"Mary, son of a..." The vampire wannabe yelled in agony.

Jaime tugged on my arm. "Let's go Anne!"

"Oh, we're running." I said dumbly as I shuffled along with her.

"Jaime!" I heard Dean yell from around the corner. When he caught sight of me he added, "Buffy?" Great, I was an afterthought.

Jaime wasn't able to slow down before crashing right into Dean. Sam came around the corner at that moment and I figured they got the panicked girl under control between the two of them. I pivoted on my foot to face the costumed weirdo. The guy hissed at me and my stake. That was more like it. If he wanted to dress like the movie vampire, he better start acting like one.

I landed a kick into his gut, which he folded into and grunted. The heck? This was no vampire. He wasn't even going all bumpy face on me. He barely composed himself and threw a punch at me, which was way too easy to evade. Did I come back as Slayer version 2.0? I grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved my knee into his chin. He doubled over and fell to the ground. Maybe these guys were getting weaker.

Sam came up behind me and stopped at seeing the guy. "Is that who I think it is?"

I furrowed my brows and glanced up at him. "Who do you think it is?"

"Well, Dracula, obviously." He nudged the guy with his foot, but weirdo was out cold.

"That's not Dracula." I assured.

Dean joined us with Jaime still freaking out at her side. "You said he was real."

"That doesn't mean it's this guy. Dracula is a lot less hokey." I bent down and took hold of its cape and tied him off to immobilize him with it. Huh, that's kind of handy. All my villains should come with capes. I gripped him to heft him up when I felt something peel off. I immediately let him go and I was left with a chunk of skin and something slimy. "Eww."

"Dean look." I heard Sam say. I turned up at them to see if they knew what the hell was going on. Sam turned to his brother with a knowing look. "He's shedding."

"I swear, I don't think I hit him that hard." I stood up to face them. "He was all, 'I love you Jaime, blah. I watch you in your sleep, blah.' He was way too creepy to let loose on the streets."

Dean snorted a laugh. "Good thing you were here then."

"So what is he? He's not my kind of vampire." I twirled Mr. Pointy. "Should I stake him just in case? See if he goes poof?"

"Not unless that's made out of silver." Dean said. "And nothing goes poof. This isn't a Vegas magic show."

I glared at him. "Seriously? You're going to challenge me on vampire lore?"

"He's a shapeshifter." Sam interrupted before we could start arguing. I'm getting the feeling that the younger Winchester is the designated keeper of the peace.

"That's really not helpful." I wiped my slime covered palm on the supposed shapeshifter's cape. I hoisted him up and motioned for Sam to help. "So we need silver? Does the bar have anything we can use? Jaime?"

The girl was still shaken up and gripping Dean's shirt sleeve like it was lifeline. She took a steadying breath. "You three know each other?" She sounded miffed and shocked. Not exactly what I would have asked first, but to each her own.

"Jaime, focus." Dean commanded. "Bar. Silver. Is there any?"

She frowned. "I don't think so. It's not exactly upscale."

Sam nodded. "We have one in the Impala."

I punched the shapeshifter's head when I heard him stirring. I smiled at Jaime and Dean. "You two go off on your date. Sam and I will deal with this."

We left the two and clumsily balanced the Count between us. Sam was a full foot and a bit taller than me. This wasn't working out. Without much word, I grabbed hold of the unconscious Dracula and hefted him over my shoulder.

"This is much easier." I said and nodded to Sam. "Lead the way to your ride."

Sam looked at me worriedly. "Isn't he heavy?"

"Don't worry, I've lifted heavier." I walked steadily after him as we walked down the block. He kept glancing back at me every so often to make sure I didn't collapse form the weight or something. Maybe I should tell him about that time I helped Xander out in construction and carried steel beams? Nah. As it was, Sam probably thought I was freaky.

When we reached the Impala, he popped the trunk and opened the false bottom. I raised a brow at the arsenal. He rummaged through the trunk and whipped out a small knife. "This should do."

I dropped my cargo onto the ground with a thump. "Seems a little mean to stab him when he's down for the count."

"He's killed three people." Sam pointed out.

"Yeah, but this seems like cold blood." I said. "Can we untie him and give him a head start or something?"

"What are you crazy?" I heard an indignant voice behind us.

Turning, we saw Dean coming toward us alone. I raised a brow at him. "What happened to Jaime?"

"I called her a cab home." He said.

"What happened to the devirgination?" Sam asked.

I let out a barked laugh. "What?"

Dean smirked. "Just a theory I had. Decided to put that on the backburner." He pointed to the shapeshifter. "We have a town to keep safe, and you want to let this thing go."

"Well, I haven't seen a shapeshifter in action. I'd at least like to see it... shift or something." I admitted. "We didn't have any of these in Sunnydale."

"That might take hours." He reached out his hand for Sam to give him the knife. "And it's not like he showed much mercy to his three victims."

I wasn't about to champion for the killer to go free, but I was an American girl that expected some due process before carrying out the sentence. "Don't you want to know why?" I asked.

Dean frowned at me. "Why what?"

"Why Count Chocula here did what he did?" I clarified. "Human or monster, they usually have a reason."

"Doesn't matter." He narrowed his eyes and turned toward the shapeshifter. "He killed people."

Then Dean stabbed the creature without a second thought.

_Dean POV_

"What's in Wyoming that you need so bad?" I tossed the question backward to Buffy in the back seat.

Glancing back in the rearview window, I could see that she made herself at home back there. She was stretched out on the entire length of the bench seat with her head leaning against the edge of the open window. Her eyes were closed and her blonde hair whipped around her while tresses of it danced out the window as we sped down the highway.

"Need to get back something that belongs to me." She answered with her eyes still closed.

"Did you get something stolen?" Sam turned slightly to look back at her from his place in the passenger seat.

Blinking her eyes open, she straightened up a bit and raked her fingers through her now tangled hair. "Not stolen. It's in safe keeping, but I need it back now."

"Can you give me something more precise than just Wyoming?" I asked as I drove us down the I-80. "Not sure if you know, but it's a pretty big state."

"South Wyoming." She said vaguely.

Sam laughed, "I guess that eliminates half the state."

"Fine." She huffed in good nature. I heard her rummaging back there for something, and then I heard some paper rumpling. "Giles gave me this map. Apparently there's a bunch of churches and railroad tracks. I need to get to the center of that."

I nearly drove off the side of the road at the description of her destination. Sam sounded as surprised as I felt. "At the Devil's Gate?"

"Giles called it that." She commented as she scanned the map for a bit and handed it over to Sam. "I was never great with directions. Maybe you can figure it out college boy."

"I already know where it is." I stressed as I gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter. There were only so many reasons a person needed to get to the Devil's Gate. Personally, I couldn't think of a legitimate one. Maybe I shouldn't trust this girl. Because at the end of the day, what the hell did I know about her?

For the rest of the drive to Wyoming she only answered cryptically about what she needed to get. From what I gathered, it was an object. Even after we told her the devil's trap was not intact, she didn't seem to care.

It was night when we finally reached the first set of railroad tracks and breeched into the one hundred mile pentagram. As I drove us over the tracks, the Impala jolted us in our seats. The area around this place looked as dead as it did when we were here last year. The next fifty miles was spent in silence as we made our way to the cowboy cemetery. The gravel grinded underneath the car's wheels and the dead leaves crunched in our wake.

"Where?" I questioned as we pulled up to the graveyard.

She grabbed her bag and went for the door. "Did I see a shovel back there?"

Following her out and toward the back of the car, I popped the trunk. "Why do we need a shovel?"

"For its usual purpose." She slung one over her shoulder and grinned. "And I appreciate both of your help." Buffy led the way as she read some instructions on a piece of paper. "I may not know my way around Wyoming, but I can navigate a cemetery like no other."

I'm sure she would have been met with a few raised eyebrows with another crowd, but we've clocked way too many hours digging up graves to judge. She navigated the place pretty quickly and stopped at a headstone. This one was relatively new compared to the others that were at least a hundred years old.

Sam went around the stone and looked surprised to see what it said. "This is your grave."

Gesturing him to the side, Buffy stuck the shovel into the ground and shrugged. "Not much of a grave without a body, but I guess it's the thought that counts."

I glanced at the tombstone and read it aloud. "'Buffy Anne Summers, 1981-2003, Beloved Hero, She Saved The World A Lot... Again.' Does that make you twenty-two or twenty-seven now?"

Shoveling up the first pile of dirt from the grave she looked up at me. "Never really thought about it."

"Are you trying to shave off a few years Dean?" Sam asked while he tossed his jacket to me. He picked up the second shovel and also started digging.

"I was down for months, not years." I hefted myself on the headstone and watched them work.

Blondie shot me a look between digs. "Respect the dead a little will you? That's not a chair."

"Well, it's yours, and you're not dead." I patted the stone. "Wanna keep it?"

"I'm good. It's my second one. I don't really collect these things in my basement or something." She kept shoveling. "Now with Sunnydale gone, I guess I don't even have a basement to collect stuff in. I had a mean shoe collection going too."

"So you had a house?" Sam asked. To her, it probably sounded like polite conversation, but I knew better. Sam was always jealous of anyone with a real home, and he probably wanted to live vicariously through her experiences by hearing about them.

"Yup. 1630 Revello Drive. By the end, I lived there with my sister, seven of my closest friends, and way too many potential slayers to keep track of." She kept digging with the same gusto. "I was one big happy apocalypse fighting family."

I bit back a smirk at her description. It was obviously far off from what Sam wanted to hear. I know my brother, and what he wanted to hear was that she lived in the suburbs, had a dog, and a happy childhood. Instead, she housed evil-fighting soldiers.

"Was it always like that?" He inquired.

"No, not always." She paused for a beat, but kept digging. "I was called when I was fifteen."

"Called for what?" I asked this time.

"To be the slayer." She started to explain. Buffy proceeded to give what I would assume were the main bullet points of her life. Nothing overly personal, but enough to know that she had been a typical girl from LA until she was pulled into this messed up world of monsters. The winding road from expulsion, her parents divorcing, her mom dying, Buffy dying, and coming back was more than I expected. I've been doing this since I was kid, but next to her story I felt a bit like the rookie.

After about three feet I volunteered to switch with her, but she said it was her dig so she kept going. Instead, I switched with Sam -who was all too willing to take a break. Another three feet and we finally hit something. Wiping some of the dirt to the side, I saw the top of a simple pine box.

"They buried an empty box?" I remarked.

She shrugged with an inappropriate grin on her face. "Apparently it's part of the grieving process."

The fact that she seemed happy about her family and friends mourning her death was little too off putting. "We're not going to crack this thing open and find your body are we?"

"If I'm in there, how am I out here?" Her grin remained in place. "There's something in there that belongs to me."

Oh my God. It's going to be a heart isn't it? We're going to find a bloody bleeding heart in there.

Buffy gestured for me to hop out -which I was more than happy to do. The last thing I needed was to be ankle deep in bloody hearts. She swung the shovel up and slammed it back down onto the top of the box. The force she had behind it was stronger than I expected. The pine lid cracked and splintered. She tossed the shovel up out of the hole and dug her hands into the box.

Instead of the heart or other nefarious paraphernalia that I suspected, there was something shiny in the box. She chucked out pieces of the lid out, which we had to dodge in order to not get impaled.

"Watch it will you?" I barked out as one particularly large piece narrowly missed my head.

"Sorry." She answered offhandedly as she finally reached in for whatever she was digging for. Pulling out a sleek-looking silver and red axe, she stared at it in awe.

"An axe? That's what you were looking for?" Sam reiterated what was going through my head.

"That better be a magic silver axe that kills demons." I grumbled as I extended my hand out for her to take.

Taking my offer, I hefted her out of her own grave with axe and all. She really was light. Maybe it was years of lugging around Sam when he got injured, but Buffy was way too easy to pull out. How the hell was she this strong? Slayer or not, how was it physically possible that such a strong punch was packed into such a tiny package? Then again, that wasn't far off from how the monsters were.

Before my head could keep wandering, she dusted herself off and twirled the axe in her hand like it was a baton. "Oh, I missed you."

"You need a moment there?" I jibed at seeing how enamored she was with the thing.

"It's hard to explain, but it feels like it belongs to me." She led the way back to the car. "Or any slayer for that matter."

"Then why is it yours?" Sam walked beside her. "Aren't there hundreds of slayers out there now?"

"Yeah, but according to Giles, there was some intense power play to get at this thing." She explained. "So Faith suggested they hide it."

"Faith?" he repeated the name.

"She's the slayer who was called after the first time I died." When we reached the car she refused to put the axe in the back, like she needed to keep this thing by her side.

"Back in 2001?" I asked.

"No, I think that was in 1997, but don't quote me on that." She raced over to the passenger seat before Sam and gave a toothy smile. "Shotgun."

Sam just laughed and piled into the back. At least it was understood I would be driving.

"So that's it? Twenty-six hours of driving and we came for your toy?" I revved up the Impala and pulled us out of the cemetery.

"It's more than a toy." I glanced over to see her shinning the thing with her shirt sleeve. "This thing got me through the last apocalypse."

"Is it silver?"

"We're not melting it down." She said flatly. I could feel her narrowing her eyes at me. "What are you hunting for werewolves?"

"You can kill a lot more than just werewolves with silver." I tell her.

"Either way, I'm not sure what this thing is made out of." She turned her attention toward my brother. "Sam, is there any way to test if something is silver?"

"Why are you asking him and not me?" I defended.

"Because he seems like the brains of this operation." She argued, and I really couldn't deny what she said.

Sam gave me a smug look while giving her an answer. "If it's magnetic it's not silver. You could also do an acid test, but we don't have the right supplies."

"Or you could try killing something with it." Maybe I was the brains. "Seventy percent of the monsters out there are fatally allergic to silver. Swing at them, and if they die: ta-da, it's silver."

My brother nodded in agreement and steered the question to what both of us have been wondering about. "Why was your axe in the Devil's Gate? And in your grave?"

"Symbolic, I guess. Also, who the hell wants to dig up an empty box?" She finally set it aside and leaned back in her seat. "And back when they buried the thing, the devil's trap was still intact. The baddies couldn't get in the cemetery, let alone dig the thing up."

Sam furrowed his brows. "So the fact that no one dug the axe up for the past year and half is..."

"Dumb luck?" She shrugged. "And I like calling it a scythe. It sounds a lot less lumberjacky."

"Well, then we need to put you and your scythe to work." I caught Sam's eye in the rearview mirror and asked, "Where to next Sammy?"

He turned his attention toward his cell phone. "Since we're in the area, we should go to Colorado."

"Colorado is in the area? Aren't we about two hundred miles from the state border?" She looked out into the night as we crossed down southward. "Do you guys spend your entire life on the road or something?"

"Close to it." Sam admitted. "There's a small town in Colorado where three men died of a heart attack."

"Well with middle America the way it is, I'm not surprised." She kept her attention outward still. "Maybe the town has one too many burger joints."

"Actually, the guys were perfectly healthy." Sam kept reading from his phone. "Two yesterday, one today. One guy was even a marathon runner."

"Sounds like our kind of case." I kept us going at an even speed and out of the devil's trap.

"They called me and my gang the Scoobies, but you two are regular pair of Hardy boys." Buffy turned to smile at me, but from the corner of my eye I could tell there was something behind it. She seemed almost sad. "You're lucky you have each other."

I furrowed my brows at her wording. From what she said about her time in Sunnydale, she had a whole group of people who also fought the good fight with her. But her tone sounded less like she was happy for us, and more like she was jealous.

"And now they have you." Cas' sudden voice startled everyone -mostly me, who drove us nearly off the road. The tires screeched as I turned the wheel and I could smell the burnt rubber from my foot slamming down on the brake.

Once I had control of the car, I put us in park and whirled around in my seat to glare at the occupant of the spot behind Buffy. There sat Castiel, angel of doom and gloom, looking like he'd been along for the ride the entire time.

"Are you defective?!" I yelled back at him.

"Not to my present knowledge." He said evenly. "I still haven't validated the quality of this vessel, but I believe it is in good working condition."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "That's not what he means."

"I don't understand." Castiel was his usual stern self, but slightly lost.

Ignoring his confusion she turned to face him and pressed on. "What do you want Cas?"

He visibly frowned at the nickname, but answered her question. "We need you Slayer."

"Like I haven't heard that one before."She sighed and shot me a knowing look -what I was supposed to know, was beyond me. "You're going to have to be a little more specific."

"We need help with a seal."

"This better not be about opening up the seal of a pickle jar." She quipped. "I'm a busy girl, you know."

"I have no need for pickles." Cas' tone was completely serious. I noted that I was already mentally adapting Buffy's nickname for the angel.

Now it was Sam's turn to bring us back to topic. "What do we need to do?"

"Not you two, only the Slayer." Cas revealed, to our surprise but not to Buffy.

"We already covered this." She gave a wicked smile that I knew was edging on a threat by her tone. "I have a name."

Cas ignored her and faced me. "I'll return her soon. We are just in need of a non-angel."

"She's not a car." I mocked. "Also, we somehow don't fit the qualification of non-angel?"

The angel remained silent for a long moment and looked me over slowly. If I was in a bar and some dude was sizing me up the way he was, I would start a fight. Cas moved on to Sam and looked him over as well. After a long somewhat awkward pause, he finally spoke evenly. "We need someone strong."

Buffy burst out laughing and grinned at the two of us. "Don't take it personally boys."

"Grab your weapon Slayer." Cas reached forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'll have her back within twenty-four hours." And then, they were gone.

"Is it just me, or is it really unnerving when he does that?" Sam said and then made his way around the car into the passenger side.

Once Sammy was situated, I pulled the car into drive and back down the road. "For someone that's supposed to be protecting us, we sure don't see that much of Blondie."

"You miss her already?" He raised a brow at me.

"She's easier on the eyes than you are." I joked.

"Are we still headed to Colorado?" Sam asked.

I shot him what was probably an odd look. "Why wouldn't we?"

"Your guardian Slayer isn't with us." He bit back a smirk at me. "What if you get hurt?"

"Way to jinx me Sammy." I glared at him. "Anyways, we hunted before she came around and we'll hunt after she leaves."


End file.
